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 %\t Wixim% m\^ S^rbxas of Jfrait^rs MaglaiiJtr. 
 
 DISCOURSE 
 
 COMMEMORATIVE OF 
 
 fea:ncis watla:^d, 
 
 DELIVERED BEPORE THE 
 
 ALUMNI OF BEOWN UNIYERSITY, 
 
 SEPTEMBER 4, 186 6. 
 By GEORGE :]^THACE, LL.D., 
 
 M 
 
 PROFESSOR IN EUOWN UNIVERSITY. 
 
 PEOYIDENCE: 
 
 SIDNEY S. RIDEK & BROTHEB. 
 
 18 6 6. 
 

 ^4- 
 
 PRINTED BY THE PROVIDENCE PRESS COMPANY. 
 
Providence, September 6, 1866. 
 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 At a meeting of tlie Alumni of Brown University, held yesterday^ Com- 
 mencement day, it was 
 
 Voted, That the thanks of the Alumni be presented to Professor Chace for 
 his Discourse commemorative of the life and services of the late President 
 "Wayland ; 'and that the Committee of Arrangements he instructed to com- 
 municate the same, and to request a copy of the Discourse for the press. 
 
 In communicating this vote, we beg to add the hope, that you will yield to, 
 the general request, and thus bring your Discourse within the reach of the 
 many pupils and friends of the deceased, who were not able to be present at 
 its delivery. 
 
 Yours, respectfully, 
 
 J. L. LINCOLN", > Committee 
 WM. GODDAED, >- of 
 
 A. HAEKNESS, ) Arrangements. . 
 Professor George I Cuace, LL.D. 
 
 Gentlesien 
 
 Providence, September 7, 1866; 
 
 In compliance with your request, I herewith place at your disposal my 
 Discourse on the life and services of the late President Wayland. 
 
 Yours, respectfully, 
 
 GEOEGE I. CHACE. 
 Messrs. J. L, Lincoln, Wm. Goddard, A. HarXness. 
 
DISCOUESE. 
 
 Aliimni of Broivn University : 
 
 Since we last gathered on this consecrated spot, to 
 extend to one another the hand of cordial greeting, 
 and to receive afresh the benediction of our Alma 
 Mater, a great sorrow has fallen upon us. He whose 
 presence was so intiniately associated with these scenes, 
 who more than any one else attracted hither our annual 
 pilgrimages, whom we so honored and loved, our early 
 instructor and guide and friend, whose prayers ceased 
 not daily to ascend for us, and whose blessing ever 
 followed us, the great, the good, the venerated Way- 
 land is no more. How did the sad tidings, when first 
 borne by telegraph over the land, smite upon our 
 hearts ! How did pursuit for a time pall, and desire 
 slacken, and motive fail ! A part of our very being 
 seemed taken from us. The same sky was no longer 
 over us. A light which had beamed so long and so 
 benignantly upon us, had gone out. The same atmos- 
 phere was no longer around us. A great heart, with 
 
6 
 
 such power of sustaining and comforting by its sympa- 
 thies, had ceased to beat. A grand and heroic nature, 
 whose simple presence was an inspiration to every 
 virtue, had passed from the earth. ^|i 
 
 But the loss and grief were not ours alone. We 
 have a large companionship in sorrow. The exalted 
 character of him whom we mourn, his great public 
 services, and his long life of unselfish devotion to the 
 highest interests of humanity, made him very widely 
 known, and gave him a place in the affections and 
 respect of the community, such as few are permitted 
 to hold. Of this the various organs through which 
 popular feeling is accustomed to express itself, have 
 given evidence. The press all over the land has borne 
 witness to the sincerity and depth of the public grief. 
 Numerous benevolent associations have recorded their 
 jDrofound sense of the loss which the interests of virtue 
 and the cause of philanthropy have everywhere sus- 
 tained. The pulpit, while it has mourned the removal 
 of one of its chief ornaments, has paid spontaneous 
 and. fervid homage to his exalted worth and to the 
 power of his Christian character. Literature has hast- 
 ened to embalm in her own frankincense his name, that 
 it may go down to posterity among the benefactors of 
 the race. 
 
 And now we have assembled to mingle our grief 
 with the general sorrow ; to recall the more prominent 
 events in the history of one whose life was so true, so 
 beneficent, so worthy ; to review his eminent services, 
 extending over a period of almost half a century, and 
 reaching in their influence every interest of society; 
 to trace anew the lineaments of his grand character. 
 
and to hang the picture forever in the chambers of 
 memory. 
 
 In the discharge of this grateful office, the duty of 
 speaker has devolved upon me. Although I am fully 
 aware of the magnitude and difficulty of the task 
 assigned me, and painfully conscious that J am wholly 
 unequal to it, in obedience to your commands, as well 
 as from love of the service, I shall endeavor to perform 
 it as I best may, relying upon your indulgence for my 
 many, and as I fear, grievous short-comings, I am the 
 less embarrassed, when I remember that the portrait 
 which I would have you contemplate is already in your 
 minds, and that I have only to touch aright the chords 
 of association in order that it may stand out before you 
 in all the massive strength and beauty of the original. 
 
 Francis Wayland was born in the city of New York, 
 March 11, 1796. He was the son of Rev. Francis and 
 Sarah Wayland, who came from England to this country 
 a short time previous to his birth. His father was a 
 clergyman of the Baptist denomination, remarkable 
 rather for the goodness of his heart, and the guileness 
 simplicity and purity of his Christian character, than 
 for those more brilliant qualities which dazzle and cap- 
 tivate in the popular preacher. His mother was a 
 woman of high intellectual endowments, and great force 
 of character. Of her as well as of his father, he always 
 spoke with the deepest filial reverence. While he was 
 still a boy, the family removed to Poughkeepsie. At 
 the academy in this place, under the care of Mr. Daniel 
 H. Barnes, he took his first lessons in the Latin and 
 Greek languages. He remained here until the spring 
 of 1811, when at the age of fifteen years he entered the 
 
Sophomore Class, in Union College, Schenectady, New 
 York. Of his college course I have little knowledge. 
 He was accustomed in after life to speak of it as having 
 embraced too mftch reading and too little study. But 
 from the fact that he was subsequently invited to become 
 a member of the Faculty, I infer that his scholarship 
 must have been at least satisfactory. 
 
 Soon after leaving college, he commenced the study 
 of medicine under Dr. Hale of Troy, with whom he 
 remained about six months. He then entered the office 
 of Dr. Eli Burritt, of the same place, and continued with 
 him until his medical studies were completed. A more 
 than usually intimate relation seems to have grown up 
 between instructor and pupil. The Doctor, who was 
 an able man, and genial companion, as well as skillful 
 physician, took delight in opening to the enthusiastic 
 young student the rich stores of his professional reading 
 and experience. He also extended to him freely the 
 opportunities which a large practice offered for the 
 actual study of the different forms of disease, taking 
 care to guide him aright in making observations and in 
 deriving conclusions from them. It was under these 
 favoring influences that he first awoke to a consciousness 
 of his powers, and that his mind acquired those practical 
 tendencies by w^hich it was ever afterwards characterized , 
 I am inclined to believe that no period of his life was 
 richer in memories, or more fruitful in results, than the 
 two years which he passed as a student of medicine in 
 the office of Dr. Burritt. He never mentioned the 
 name of this early friend and instructor but with ex- 
 pressions of affectionate respect and gratitude. 
 
9 
 
 But the foundation that was so carefully laid for suc- 
 cess and eminence in his chosen profession was destined 
 to serve other and different purposes. He had but just 
 been admitted to practice, when a change took place in 
 his views of life and his convictions of duty, which 
 caused him to abandon it. Believing himself to be called 
 by the Master to labor in His spiritual vineyard, he at 
 once began preparation for the new employment. In 
 the autumn of 1816, three years after graduation, he 
 entered the Theological Seminary at Andover, Mass. 
 Prof Moses Stuart had for some time previous occupied 
 the chair of Sacred Literature in that institution. He 
 was now in the full maturity of his powers, though 
 not yet at the height of his fame. He had already 
 commenced that reform in biblical study which was to 
 constitute the most important work of his life. Casting 
 off the shackles of a dogmatic theology, and freeing 
 himself from the trammels of immemorial usage, he 
 applied the same rules of interpretation to the Scrip- 
 tures as to other ancient writings, and accepted the 
 unqualified meaning which they gave him. In the 
 preparation of his courses of instruction he drew largely 
 from new and hitherto unopened sources. The stores of 
 German philology and criticism were unlocked by him, 
 and made available for the first time to the American 
 student. By his rare gifts of language and illustration, 
 by the novelty and boldness of many of his views, and 
 by the ardor with which he pressed them, and more 
 especially by the earnestness and eloquence with which 
 he vindicated the simple, unadulterated Word of God 
 as the only and sufficient rule of faith and practice, he 
 kindled in his classes an enthusiasm which knew no 
 
10 
 
 bounds. "Some of his pupils," I quote the words of 
 one of them, "almost looked upon him as a being from 
 a higher world. The hour when they first saw him, 
 was a kind of epoch in their history." 
 
 Under this great master, the recently awakened 
 powers of the medical student received a fresh stimu- 
 lus, and he entered with the utmost zeal upon his new 
 field of study. He soon found it to afibrd scope for 
 the freest and most expansive exercise of every faculty. 
 Embodying a literature of great variety and richness, 
 containing truths the grandest and the most momen- 
 tous that the human mind ever contemplated, and 
 supported in every utterance by the authority of inspi- 
 ration, the Bible, studied under such a teacher, became 
 incomparably the most interesting of all books. Gram- 
 mar, philology, geography and history, local and general, 
 were in turn pressed into the service of developing and 
 elucidating its meaning. Every day enlarged the field 
 of his mental vision. Every week brought with it a 
 conscious increase of power. Every month found him 
 with a deeper knowledge of the Word of God, and a 
 profounder reverence for its teachings. During his resi- 
 dence at Andover* he learned what, if he had accom- 
 plished nothing else, would have made it an important 
 era in his life : he learned how to study and how to 
 teach the Bible — two things which he never afterwards 
 forgot. I have listened to many able and eloquent 
 expounders of the Scriptures ; but I have never heard 
 any one, who, whether in pulpit or class-room, unfolded 
 their meaning with so great naturalness, simplicity and 
 power as President Wayland. Few of the pupils of 
 Professor Stuart caught more of his spirit, and none of 
 
11 
 
 them in after life cherished for the great bibhcal inter- 
 preter a profounder respect and admiration. 
 
 In the fall of 1817, after a year's residence, he left 
 the Theological Seminary, to accept a tutorship in 
 Union College. This new position introduced him to 
 relations most favorable to growth and culture. His 
 teaching embraced a large variety of subjects. It was 
 not confined to a single department, but extended, at 
 different times, to nearly the entire college course. In 
 the academic circle he was brought into daily inter- 
 course with minds of large experience and rich and 
 varied culture, at a time of life when such intercourse 
 is most improving. It was during his tutorship that he 
 first really knew President Nott, and that that mutual 
 love, respect and admiration was awakened which con- 
 tinued to grow for half a century. The four years 
 spent in these happy relations he ever after recalled 
 with the liveliest interest, and was accustomed to speak 
 of them as the most important in his life. It was 
 during this period, that his character especially took 
 its form and pressure, and that he first gave assurance 
 of the brilliant future that was before him. 
 
 Although chiefly occupied with the duties of instruc- 
 tion, he continued to a certain extent his theological 
 studies under the immediate direction of Dr. Nott. He 
 also preached occasionally in the neighboring towns 
 and villages. In August, 1821, he received ordination 
 and accepted the pastoral charge of the First Baptist 
 Church in Boston. The advantage of his long, varied 
 and thorough training preparatory to entering upon 
 the field of labor to which he believed himself called, 
 became at once apparent. His sermons from the com- 
 
12 
 
 mencement showed marked ability. They were char- 
 acterized by a range and elevation of thought, an 
 eloquence of diction, and a depth and fervor of feeling 
 which raised them far above the level of ordinary pul- 
 pit discourses. Soon he became known through them 
 to the public. Hardly had two years elapsed, when 
 his eloquent defence of missions extended widely his 
 name and fame, and gave him a place among the first 
 orators of the land. 
 
 Nor did he, in the care with which his preparations 
 were made for the pulpit, forget the humbler duties of 
 the pastor. He was much among his people. He 
 learned their characters and circumstances. He put 
 himself in personal relations witli thein. He sought 
 occasions and opportunities for seeing them and press- 
 ing upon their attention the obligations and duties of 
 religion, ever remembering that it was individual souls 
 that were to be saved ; that it was individual human 
 souls, and not congregations of men and women, that 
 he must account for to the Master. Besides the direct 
 personal influence which he thus exerted, he was ena- 
 bled by the knowledge of character gained to adapt his 
 public minstrations more perfectly to the wants of his 
 people. It was a maxim with him, that a minister who 
 performs with fidelity his pastoral duties, will never 
 lack for subjects when he enters the pulpit. 
 
 Mr. Wayland remained with the church in Boston 
 five years. In the autumn of 1826, he returned to 
 Union College, having accepted an appointment to the 
 chair of mathematics and natural philosophy. His stay 
 here was destined to be but of short duration. About 
 this time the presidency of Brown University became 
 
13 
 
 vacant. The Rev. Dr. Messer, who had held that office 
 for nearly a quarter of a century, and who, as tutor, 
 professor and president, had given to the institution a 
 whole life of honorable service, beginning to feel the 
 weight of years press upon hina, sent in his resignation. 
 In looking for a successor, the corporation soon turned 
 their attention to Professor Wayland, who during the 
 brief period of his ministry had established for himself 
 the reputation of a profound thinker and brilliant orator. 
 At a meeting held December 13th, 1826, he was unani- 
 mously elected to fill the vacancy, and the February 
 following he entered upon his presidential duties. He 
 w\as now in the first prime of life, with all his powers 
 in their full vigor, and with a work before him of suffi- 
 cient magnitude to suitably task them. 
 
 In the later years of his predecessor's administration, 
 the discipline of the college became relaxed, and the 
 spirit of study among the undergraduates declined. 
 The instruction in several of the departments was given 
 by persons having other occupations, who saw the young 
 men only in the recitation or lecture room, and who had 
 no share in the responsibilities of government. In these 
 circumstances a disposition to license had shown itself, 
 which, however unfriendly to order and the diligent 
 pursuit of learning, the authorities found it difficult to 
 suppress. The necessity of reform was deemed urgent 
 by the friends of the college. This may be inferred 
 from a resolution passed by the corporation at the same 
 meeting at which the election took place, declaring " it 
 to be the duty of the President of this University to 
 see that the laws are executed, and that the officers of 
 instruction, and others immediately connected with the 
 
14 
 
 institution, do their duty." At a subsequent meeting 
 it was further resolved, '' that no salary or other com- 
 pensation be paid to any professor, tutor, or other offi- 
 cer, who shall not, during the whole of each and every 
 term, occupy a room in one of the colleges, and assid- 
 uously devote himself to the preservation of order and 
 the instruction of the students, and the performance of 
 such other duty as may belong to his station." 
 
 . President Wayland proceeded with his accustomed 
 promptitude and energy to carry out the important 
 reforms indicated. In doing so he met, as was to be 
 expected, with opposition, both without and within the 
 college. Ideas, long entertained, were disturbed. Im- 
 memorial customs were rudely jostled. Time-honored 
 shelters, under which mischief had found protection, 
 were broken down. The various disguises and coverings 
 by which indolence had contrived to make itself respec- 
 table, were plucked off. Diligent application to study, 
 and a laudable ambition to excel, were stimulated by 
 new, and, as was claimedj invidious honors. The tradi- 
 tions of the college were unceremoniously set aside, 
 and others, from a foreign source, it was said, were 
 substituted for them. It is not in human nature — 
 certainly not in student nature — tamely to suffer en- 
 croachment upon prescriptive rights and privileges. 
 Angry feelings were aroused. Indignant protests were 
 made against the innovations. Scton a spirit of resistance 
 to authority manifested itself in all the protean forms 
 which ingenuity could devise, and the circumstances of 
 life in college would permit. One of the mildest of 
 these modes of expressing public sentiment, was delinea- 
 tion on the walls of the halls, and the lecture rooms when 
 
15 
 
 these could be entered. I recall a spirited sketch exe- 
 cuted by a class-mate, which represented very well the 
 prevailing current of opinion and criticism. It com- 
 prised two figures. Dr. Messer, seated in his old chaise, 
 with reins fallen, and whip lost, was jogging leisurely 
 on. Directly before him and in clear view, lay the gulf 
 of perdition. Near by was Dr. Wayland, in a buggy 
 of the newest fashion, harnessed to an animal on whose 
 build and muscle two-forty was plainly written. He 
 was headed in the same direction, and with taut rein 
 and knitted brow and kindling eye, was pressing with 
 all his might forward. 
 
 But the students soon learned with whom they had 
 to deal. Opposition was vain. Remonstrance, however 
 passionate, proved useless. Resistance to authority, 
 whatever form it might assume, or whatever strength 
 it might acquire from combination, availed nothing. It 
 was the wave dashed against the rock, only to be beaten 
 back in spray. In some of the fiercer assaults, individ- 
 uals were thrown in the recoil to so great a distance 
 that they never found their way back. They left their 
 college for their college's good. The greater number 
 presently became reconciled to the new order of things, 
 and forgot their angry feelings in the general enthu- 
 siasm for study, which already began to be awakened. 
 Before a twelve-month had passed, all were conscious 
 of new impulses and higher aspirations, and a quicken- 
 ing and invigoration of every faculty from the whole- 
 some discipline to which they were subjected. And as 
 conscious injustice is not a vice of students, those who 
 had been the most bitter in their denunciations, were 
 now the loudest in their praises. The profoundest 
 
16 
 
 eiiloghims which I have ever heard pronounced upon 
 President Wayland as an instructor and officer of gov- 
 ernment, have come from men who were in college at 
 this time, and who formed their estimate from the 
 character and ability exhibited in these circumstances. 
 The opposition outside of the college continued some- 
 what longer ; but having its origin, for the most part, 
 in misconceptions, it, too, soon passed away. 
 
 Having placed the government and discipline of the 
 university on a satisfactory footing, President Wayland 
 next sought to improve the instruction and raise the 
 standard of scholarship and character. The use of 
 books, except in the languages, was prohibited in the 
 recitation room. The lessons assigned were required 
 to be mastered by both teacher and pupil, before enter- 
 ing it, so that the topics embraced might be freely and 
 fully discussed by them. The pupil was expected to 
 do something more than answer questions, or repeat 
 the words of the text-book, or recite in their order the 
 successive paragraphs. He was required to give, as 
 far as he might be able, in his own language, the course 
 of argument, or the train of thought ; to separate it 
 into its component parts ; to distinguish the principal 
 from the subordinate, the essential from the accidental, 
 the substance from the form ; in a word, to discriminate 
 sharply between the important and the unimportant in 
 each paragraph, section and chapter, and to present the 
 former divested of the latter, with a due regard to 
 order and connection. 
 
 This mode of conducting recitations .proved, in the 
 hands of able and skillful teachers, a most efficient 
 means of culture. Besides bringing intp cqnstant actiy- 
 
17 
 
 ity some of the most important faculties, it accustomed 
 the mind to processes presupposed in all good writing 
 or effective thinking. It also tended strongly to break 
 up that pernicious habit of mere word-learning, which 
 from the training of boyhood so many bring with them 
 to college. The effect was soon apparent in a larger 
 intellectual growth and in a more manly character. 
 Judge Story, when professor in the Cambridge Law 
 School, was accustomed to say, as I have been informed, 
 that he could distinguish a graduate from Brown Uni- 
 versity by his power of seizing upon the essential points 
 of a case and freeing it from all extraneous matters. 
 
 This new mode of teaching introduced by President 
 Wayland was known in college at the time as the 
 analytic method. The student was said to recite by 
 analysis. As in the case of all other modes of instruc- 
 tion, its success depended greatly upon the character 
 of the teacher. With incompetence in the chair, or 
 stupidity behind the desk, it was liable to degenerate 
 into an unmeaning and worthless formalism. I recall 
 an extreme case. A graduate, who had left the insti- 
 tution a short time previous to engage in the business 
 of instruction, called upon me, partly, 1 suppose, for 
 sympathy, and partly to afford me the pleasure of 
 knowing how admirably he was succeeding in his new 
 employment. He had adopted fully, he informed me, 
 the university methods. He taught everything by 
 analysis. As I had had the honor of instructing him 
 in geometry, he drew his illustrations from that study. 
 He made his pupils, he said, commence at the beginning 
 of each book, and repeat the propositions in their order, 
 to the end ; and then commence at the end and repeat 
 
18 
 
 them backwards to the beginning. He particularly 
 asked my attention to the latter exercise as an exten- 
 sion of the principle of analysis and an actual improve- 
 ment upon the teaching in college. 
 
 The prevalence of a higher spirit and better methods 
 of study, prepared the way for extending the estab- 
 lished courses of instruction, and also for introducing 
 new courses. Advantage was taken of the openings 
 thus made, as fast as the means of the institution would 
 permit. The French language, in which instruction 
 had not previously been given, was first made a part 
 of the curriculum. Afterwards the German was intro- 
 duced as an elective study. Courses were also estab- 
 lished in political economy, in history, and in several 
 of the physical sciences. The means of instruction 
 were at the same time greatly enlarged, in the form of 
 apparatus, books, specimens, maps, models, and other 
 aids of a similar character. The fruit of these aug- 
 mented resources of the university was seen in larger 
 acquisitions and in a more varied and richer culture. 
 
 To reach the characters and quicken the moral im- 
 pulses of the young men, President Wayland availed 
 himself of every channel that was open to him. 
 
 He saw them often in private. His usual appellation 
 of " my son," while it was a simple expression of his 
 interest in them, and of the care and responsibility which 
 he constantly felt for their welfare, had the effect of 
 softening the severer official relation, and investing with 
 something of a paternal character, his suggestions and 
 counsels. These personal conversations were always 
 most salutary in their influence, and not unfrequently 
 
19 
 
 marked an epoch in the history of the young man, from 
 which his Hfe took a new reckoning. 
 
 He attended frequently, and during periods of special 
 interest constantly, the religious meetings that were 
 held in college. Some of his prayers and exhortations 
 at these meetings will be long remembered. Under 
 their influence the light of a new life for the first time 
 broke upon many a one who has since become himself 
 a light and a power in the Christian Church. 
 
 For a long series of years he met every Sunday 
 evening a class for the study of the Scriptures. This 
 was always well, and at times, numerously attended. 
 Many were attracted by the intellectual excitement 
 and stimulus which it afforded. The great doctrines of 
 Christianity were unfolded with a freshness, beauty and 
 power which made them seem like new revelations. 
 Its practical teachings were enforced by arguments 
 more cogent, and appeals more eloquent and thrilling 
 than any to which I have elsewhere listened. The 
 spell of the senses was broken. The mind awoke as 
 from a dream. The material and tangible melted away 
 under the power of the invisible. This world became 
 shadow, and the other world substance. Character, 
 character, character was everything; all beside, nothing. 
 
 With the hope of influencing larger numbers. Presi- 
 dent Wayland, at a later period, substituted for the 
 Bible class, preaching in the chapel on Sunday after- 
 noons. To this change, the world owes his University 
 sermons. They were delivered, with others not pub- 
 lished, to an audience made up partly of students and 
 partly of citizens. They are unquestionably among 
 his ablest and most eloquent productions. They were 
 
20 
 
 listened to with profound, and, at times, thrilling inter- 
 est. But I do not think tlieir moral or religious effect 
 was so great as that of the humbler service whose place 
 they took. 
 
 Another channel through which he sought to reach 
 and affect character, was the daily instructions of the 
 recitation and lecture room. The sciences which he 
 taught — intellectual and moral philosophy — were 
 peculiarly favorable to this, and he shaped his courses 
 in them with special reference to it. Little time was 
 occupied with the metaphysical inquiries which under- 
 lie and cluster around these sciences. Questions of a 
 merely speculative interest, having no practical bearing, 
 were quickly disposed of Whether the mind be sim- 
 ple or complex, whether it act immediately or through 
 faculties, whether its knowledge of the external world 
 be intuitive or representative, what force is, and how 
 originated, whether it be inherent in matter, or external 
 to it and only exerted upon it, whether creation was a 
 completed act or the first moment of an exertion of 
 power ever since continued, the origin of moral evil, 
 the nature of right, the reconcilation of human account- 
 ability with the Divine Sovereignty, and other similar 
 problems, were either passed by altogether, or referred to 
 merely, in indicating the bounds of possible knowledge; 
 or they were mentioned as illustrations of the yearn- 
 ing with which the mind, shut up in the prison-house 
 of the senses, reaches out towards the illimitable ex- 
 panse of being around it, or were pointed out as hopeless 
 inquiries upon which the highest efforts of the most gift- 
 ed intellects of the race have, for the last thirty centuries, 
 been vainly expended. The respective spheres and 
 
21 . 
 
 offices of the different mental powers or faculties, the 
 laws by which they are governed, their combined action 
 in the higher intellectual operations, their proper use 
 discipline and culture, conscience, obligation, duty, 
 the moral law, its divine sanction, the consequences, 
 both here and hereafter, of its violation, — these were 
 the themes upon which he discoursed with such earnest- 
 ness in the lecture-room, and which are presented so 
 clearly and so forcibly in his admirable text-book. 
 
 But President Wayland liked the concrete better 
 than the abstract. He preferred to consider man as a 
 living, thinking, acting person, rather than as an assem- 
 blage of powers and sensibilities. He was more inter- 
 ested in studying the forms of intellectual and moral 
 development growing out of the varying activities of 
 the several faculties, than in the study of the faculties 
 themselves. His mind was wonderfully rich in concep- 
 tions of character. Ideals of commanding power, of 
 exalted goodness, of sublime virtue, were ever float- 
 ing through its chambers of imagery. These he scat^ 
 tered like gems, in lavish profusion, along the whole 
 pathway of his instructions. It was the quickening, 
 inspiring, educating power of these that was most felt 
 by his pupils, and that kindled to the greatest ardor ' 
 their enthusiasm. It was by the contemplation of these 
 chiefly that they were so " inflamed with the study of 
 learning and the admiration of virtue ; stirred up with 
 high hopes of living to be brave men and worthy 
 patriots, dear to God and famous to all ages." It was 
 these ideals which they especially carried from the 
 halls of the university out into the world, to be always 
 present with them, rebuking indolence, lifting from the 
 
22 
 
 debasements of mammon and sense, and soliciting ever 
 to a higher and worthier life. 
 
 Another means employed by President Wayland for 
 awakening impulse, and correcting, guiding, and ele- 
 vating public sentiment in college, was addresses from 
 the platform in the chapel. These were most frequent 
 and most characteristic, in the earlier days of his presi- 
 dency. They occurred, usually, immediately after eve- 
 ning prayers, and took the place of the undergraduate 
 speaking, which at that time formed a part of the daily 
 college programme. The occasions which called them 
 forth were some irregularity, or incident or event which 
 seemed to render proper the application of the moral 
 lever to raise the standard of scholarship or character. 
 We all knew very well when to expect them. 
 
 As the students then, with few exceptions, lived 
 within the college buildings and took their meals in 
 Commons Hall, they constituted, much more than at 
 present, a community by themselves. They were more 
 readily swayed by common impulses, and more suscep- 
 tible of common emotions. When gathered in the 
 chapel, they formed a unique, but remarkably homo- 
 geneous audience. President Wayland was at that 
 time at the very culmination of his powers, both physi- 
 cal and intellectual. His massive and stalwart frame 
 not yet filled and rounded by the accretions of later 
 years, his strongly marked features, having still 'the 
 sharp outlines and severe grace of their first chiselling, 
 his peerless eye, sending from beneath that olympian 
 brow its lordly or its penetrating glances, he seemed, 
 as he stood on the stage in that old chapel, the in"carna- 
 tion of majesty and power. He was raised a few feet 
 
above his audience, and so near to them that those 
 most remote could see the play of every feature. He 
 commenced speaking. It was not instruction ; it was 
 not argument ; it was not exhortation. It was a mix- 
 ture of wit and humor, of ridicule, sarcasm, pathos and 
 fun, of passionate remonstrance, earnest appeal and 
 solemn warning, poured forth not at random, but with 
 a knowledge of the laws of emotion to which Lord 
 Kames himself could have added nothing. The effect 
 was indescribable. No Athenian audience ever huna: 
 more tumultuously on the lips of the divine Demos- 
 thenes. That little chapel heaved and swelled with 
 the intensity of its pent-up forces. The billows of 
 passion rose and fell like the waves of a tempestuous 
 sea. At one moment all were burning with indigna- 
 tion ; the next they w^ere melted to tears. Now every 
 one was convulsed with laughter, and now as solemn 
 as if the revelations of doom were just opening upon 
 him. Emotions the most diverse followed one another 
 in quick succession. Admiration, resentment, awe and 
 worship in turn swelled every bosom. At length the 
 storm spent itself The sky cleared, and the sun shone 
 out with increased brightness. The ground had been 
 softened and fertilized, and the whole air purified. 
 
 When the resources of appeal, ]|oth private and pub- 
 lic, had been exhausted. President Wayland did not 
 hesitate to employ other and more potent means for 
 maintaining order, good government, and a high spirit 
 of study. He was a vigorous disciplinarian. The very 
 fullness of his energies disposed him to strong meas- 
 ures ; and he may sometimes have resorted to them 
 when milder ones would have succeeded. In treating 
 
24 
 
 the diseases of youth, especially college youth, he in- 
 clined to the heroic practice. He did not believe in 
 administering remedies in homoeopathic doses. He 
 aimed not at a mere alleviation of the graver symptoms 
 of the malady, but sought its radical cure. Although 
 here and there a feeble constitution may have suffered 
 under this vigorous treatment, by far the greater num- 
 ber were vastly benefitted by it. How many are now 
 able to look back to good habits formed and manly 
 purposes strengthened through his wholesome disci- 
 pline; to sterility turned into fruitfulness by the sub- 
 soiling received at his hand. 
 
 President Wayland identified himself in a remarkable 
 degree- with the college. That was always his first 
 interest. To that everything else was subordinate. 
 For that he gave himself to the most unwearied and 
 unremitting labors. During periods of irritation and 
 disturbance, it was out of his thoughts neither night 
 nor day. When there were grounds for apprehending 
 mischief or any moral irregularity, every part of the 
 buildings was subject at all hours to his visits. He 
 was especially jealous, both in himself and in those 
 associated with him, of any other interest that might 
 ablactate, to use his own strong language, the college. 
 All labor, all time, al|| thought must be given to that. 
 His ideas of professional obligation in this respect, were 
 unusually stern and exacting ; but as he illustrated and 
 enforced them by his constant example, they became 
 the ideas of his Faculty. Their spirit also passed by a 
 sort of contagion to the undergraduates, and developed 
 in tkem a more earnest and manly type of character. 
 
25 
 
 Besides this high sense of duty evinced by him in 
 everything which he did, he brought to the work of 
 teachint;; a noble enthusiasm. It was in his estimation 
 a high employment. No other surpassed it in true 
 dignity and importance. Of no other were the results 
 greater or more beneficial. The boundless wealth of a 
 universe was the birthright of mind ; but only by the 
 proper training of its faculties was it enabled to enter 
 into possession of the rich heritage. Education was 
 one of the plastic arts. The material wrought upon 
 was finer than alabaster, more enduring th^n brass or 
 marble ; capable of being moulded into forms of im- 
 posing grandeur, or bewitching grace or subduing 
 beauty. He who worked at this art worked not for 
 time only, but for eternity. Receiving a spiritual 
 instead of a material embodiment, his conceptions be- 
 come immortal. 
 
 These inspiring ideas constantly animated his zeal, 
 and quickened to tl^e highest activity every faculty, 
 while they imparted to his instructions an earnestness 
 and fervor which neither dullness nor indifference could 
 resist. All associated with him in the care and oversight 
 of the college caught something of his ardor, and put 
 forth in their several spheres fresh efforts for advancing 
 its interest. His noble conceptions of the instructor's 
 office and work, carried out from the University by his 
 pupils, and spread still more widely through his writings, 
 did much to raise teaching in public estimation, through 
 all its grades, to the dignity of a profession. They also 
 drew upon him the attention of the country, and placed 
 him by universal consent in the first rank of educators, 
 without a superior, if not without an equal, in the land. 
 
26 
 
 In 1833, six years after coming to Providence, Dr. 
 Wayland published his first volume of discourses. This 
 included his two sermons on the "Duties of an Ameri- 
 can Citizen/' so widely read and so justly admired when 
 first given to the public ; his famous sermon on the 
 " Moral Dignity of the Missionary Enterprise," numer- 
 ous editions of which had already gone out, bearing 
 his name wherever the English language was spoken ; 
 and also his discourse on the " Philosophy of Analogy," 
 delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Rhode 
 Island on its first anniversary. The last, although of a 
 less popular character than the others, is remarkable for 
 a rare felicity of conception and treatment, for the fine 
 vein of original thought which runs through it, for the 
 grace and beauty of its illustrations, and lor the classic 
 finish of its style. It is pervaded throughout by a 
 highly philosophic spirit, and contains passages of the 
 loftiest eloquence. 
 
 In 1835, two years later, his work on Moral Science 
 appeared. This was succeeded in 1837 by his Political 
 Economy, while his Intellectual Philosophy was delayed 
 till 1854, These works were especially designed for 
 tex books, and embody substantially the instructions 
 which he had previously given to his classes by lecture. 
 They do not claim to be complete and exhaustive 
 treatises on the sciences to which they relate, but only 
 to present so much and such portions of these sciences 
 as may properly find a place in the collegiate course. 
 While sufficiently elementary to meet the wants of the 
 ordinary student, they discuss with great ability some 
 of the highest and most difficult problems which human 
 nature and society present. Their style is purely 
 
27 
 
 didactic, direct, simple and perspicious, but without 
 ornament. They are books to be studied rather than 
 to be read. But instructive and admirable as they are, 
 they give but a faint idea of the marvellous interest 
 with which the same truths were invested when un- 
 folded and illustrated by the living teacher under the 
 inspiration of the class-room. The appearance of the 
 Moral Science was opportune. The need of such a 
 work had long been felt. It was almost immediately 
 adopted by a large number of the colleges, academies 
 and high schools of the country ; and although thirty 
 years have since elapsed, it still holds its place in them 
 with hardly a rival. The use of the Political Economy 
 and Intellectual Philosophy, though quite extensive, 
 has, I think, been less general. 
 
 While thus indefatigably laboring within the walls 
 of the university. President Wayland was continually 
 called upon to render various and important public 
 services. There was hardly an association in the coun- 
 try, whether for educational, philanthropic, or religious 
 objects, of which he was not a member, and which did 
 not look to him for advocacy, counsel and support. To 
 the cause of Christian missions, which was ever dear 
 to him, he gave more than the service of an ordinary 
 life. His commanding eloquence, and the great weight 
 of his opinions, caused him to be in constant requi- 
 sition as a public speaker. His orations and other 
 occasional discourses, all productions of marked ability, 
 and many of them models of the species of literature 
 to which they belong, would, if collected, swell into 
 volumes. By these outside labors he greatly extended, 
 not only his own fame, but that of the institution over 
 
28 
 
 which he presided ; securing for it a rank and position 
 not previously enjoyed, and attracting young men in 
 larger numbers to its courses. Under his fostering 
 care, all its resources were greatly augmented, and its 
 interests, external as well as internal, advanced. On 
 coming to Providence, he found the college with three 
 professors, the President not included ; he left it with 
 eight. He found it with scarcely a hundred students ; 
 he left it with more than two hundred. He found it 
 with its courses of study quite elementary and limited ; 
 he left with these courses greatly enlarged and extend- 
 ed. He found it without either a library or a philo- 
 sophical apparatus deserving the name, and without 
 buildings for their accommodation ; he left it well cared 
 for in respect to all these essential endowments of an 
 institution of learning. 
 
 In effecting these great changes, Dr. Wayland had 
 the benefit of able and efficient coadjutors. The scholar- 
 ly Elton, who, at the time of his entering upon his 
 presidential duties, was abroad, gathering inspiration 
 beneath the shadow of the Parthenon and among the 
 columns of the Forum, returned home soon afterwards 
 to commence his courses of instruction enriched from 
 the garnered stores of ancient learning. The genial 
 and classic Goddard, whose appointment to- a Professor's 
 chair was of a somewhat earlier date, rendered to the 
 University during the period of his connection with 
 it, most valuable services. By infusing something 
 of his own exquisite taste and love of elegant letters 
 into the minds of undergraduates, as well as by the 
 models of a graceful and finished style which he set 
 before them, he greatly elevated the standard of excel- 
 
29 
 
 lence in composition, and gave to rhetorical training, 
 as a part of a liberal education, that deserved promi- 
 nence in the college course which it has ever since held. 
 Of almost equal value was the sound practical sense 
 which he brought to every question of discipline and 
 government. To the aid of his rare wisdom in the coun- 
 sels of the Faculty, Dr. Wayland was always prompt 
 to acknowledge his large indebtedness. And after the 
 retirement - of Professor Goddard from the duties of 
 instruction, he upon whom the mantle of seniority 
 fell, to whom I owe so much, to whom a whole genera- 
 tion of pupils owes so much, as an able and faithful 
 teacher and a wise counsellor and friend, — would that 
 I might speak of him as my heart prompts ; but such 
 words are not permitted now ; they would seem too 
 much like personal adulation ; they must be reserved 
 for another, and I trust, far distant occasion, — he upon 
 whom the mantle of seniority so worthily fell, the hon- 
 ored and beloved Caswell, for a period of nearly thirty 
 years brought to the administration of President Way- 
 land his undivided strength and his large influence. 
 Other and younger officers of instruction and govern- 
 ment cooperated in advancing the interests of the insti- 
 tution, if not with equal ability, with equal zeal and 
 equal singleness of purpose. One of these, too early 
 withdrawn from academic labors — much too early for 
 his associates and for the interests of the University — 
 by the attractions of "learned leisure" and the "still 
 air of delightful studies," rendered an uninterrupted 
 service of more than a quarter of a century, whose 
 value and importance can hardly be estimated too 
 highly. A pupil of President Wayland, and recipient 
 
• 30 
 
 of the choicest benefits of his unequalled training, grow- 
 ing from ycuth up to ripe manhood under his imme- 
 diate eye and influence, possessing many of the rare 
 qualities which fitted him so preeminently for the in- 
 structor's office, inspired by the same ardor and the 
 same spirit of untiring and unsparing devotion to the 
 high duties imposed by it, he made his mark upon the 
 successive classes as they passed under him, beside the 
 ever-during impressions received from the great master 
 Aid of a different kind, but no less important, came 
 from without. Soon after the accession of Dr. Wayland. 
 to the Presidency, a spirit of greater liberality began to 
 prevail in the community, and juster ideas were enter- 
 tained of the claims of institutions of learning upon the 
 benefactions of the citizens. As a consequence of this, 
 contributions, some of them large in amount, flowed 
 from time to time into the treasurv. Buildins-s, the 
 need of which had fong been felt, were erected. New 
 and improved apparatus was provided. Additional 
 Professors were appointed, and the courses and means 
 of instruction in nearly every department were greatly 
 enlarged. The names of Brown and Ives, ever memo- 
 rable in the history of the University, recall a succes- 
 sion of benefits and services, transcending in value 
 even the munificent endowments with they are indis- 
 solubly associated. To the wise and thoughtful care, 
 to the almost parental interest and affection, with which 
 the bearers of these honored names have ever watched 
 over the institution, providing often from their own 
 private resources for its more pressing wants, and en- 
 couraging constantly by their sympathies all who were 
 laboring for it, is to be ascribed, in no small degree, its 
 measure of prosperity and success. 
 
31 
 
 Reference to these important and cooperative agen- 
 cies was demanded by the truth of history. They are 
 not to be considered as detracting at all from the claims 
 of President Wayland. Clustering about his admin- 
 istration, they confer upon it additional lustre. No 
 man can be great or can accomplish anything great 
 alone. It is in that superior wisdom, and that ascend- 
 ancy and force of character, which enable the master 
 spirits of the race to impress themselves upon their 
 age — to mould and shape the minds of other men, and 
 to draw them into their own lines of thought and action, 
 — that we recognize the highest form of power. 
 
 It had long been the desire of President Wayland to 
 make the advantages of the college more generally 
 available, and especially to adapt its courses in a greater 
 degree to the wants of the manufacturing and mercan- 
 tile classes. Such a change in our educational system, 
 he thought, demanded by the increasing numbers and 
 growing importance and influence of these classes. It 
 was also demanded by the character and circumstances 
 of our country, whose material developments were 
 destined to be magnificent beyond anything which 
 the world had ever seen. He thought it the duty of 
 colleges, as the guardians and dispensers of the benefac- 
 tions entrusted to them for the good of the community, 
 to heed this demand of the times, • and make the 
 changes necessary for meeting it. Unless they did so, 
 they would lose their hold upon the public, and fail to 
 accomplish, in full measure, the beneficent ends for 
 which they were founded. He also ventured to imagine 
 that knowledge having practical applications might be 
 made as valuable a means of culture, as studies lying 
 
32 ' 
 
 more remote from human interests, and recommended 
 especially by what has been denominated their "glorious 
 inutility." 
 
 These views commending themselves to the corpora- 
 tion and friends of the college generally, an effort was 
 made in 1850 to provide the means necessary for their 
 adoption. • Through the liberality and public spirit of 
 the citizens, one hundred and twenty-five thousand 
 dollars were raised and paid into the treasury. This 
 sum, though highly honorable to the donors, was quite 
 insufficient for the institution of independent courses 
 "*of instruction, with separate classes, on the extended 
 plan contemplated. The best that could be done was. 
 to substitute for these, inter-dependent courses, with 
 classes more or less mixed. Such an organization of 
 the University, though not free from objections, would 
 have the advantage of throwing it open most widely 
 to the public, It was accordingly adopted. The change 
 was almsoi immediately followed by a large increase in 
 the number of students. The attendance upon some 
 of the courses was nearly doubled. Many who had 
 previously been excluded from the benefit of an Aca- 
 demic training, gladly empraced the opportunity now 
 offered for obtaining it. An unusually large proportion 
 of these were young men of ability and character, and 
 have since risen to distinction in their several avocations. 
 But notwithstanding this apparent and real success of 
 the new system, as the altered arrangements were term- 
 ed, I do not think that the expectations of President 
 Wayland were fully realized. This was owing mainly 
 to defects of organization which the command of larger 
 means could alone have rendered. The fundamental 
 
idea was just and important. The want felt and indi- 
 cated was a real one. It has since been recognized by 
 the other colleges of the country, a large number of 
 which have made provision in one form or other for 
 supplying- it. In a neighboring State, two institutions, 
 — both largely endowed and embracing numerous de- 
 partments of instruction, — have just been established 
 for the sole purpose of furnishing a suitable education 
 and training to the industrial and commercial classes. 
 The recent examples of a noble munificence by several 
 of our wealthy and honored citizens, afford ground for 
 the hope that, under more favorable conditions, the 
 broad and catholic design of President Wayland may 
 yet be carried out among us on a plan even more ex- 
 tended and compi'ehensive than he in his most ardent 
 moments dared to conceive ; that ourneighbors of Massa- 
 chusetts and Connecticut will not for a long time be 
 permitted to appropriate to themselves the exclusive 
 benefit of ideas originated here, and finding in our 
 compact communities of highly intelligent manufac- 
 turers and merchants so appropriate a field for their 
 application. 
 
 In the summer of 1855, wishing to devote himself 
 more exclusively to the pursuit of literature and to 
 labors of benevolence, Dr. Wayland retired from the 
 University over which he had so long and so ably pre- 
 sided. Sol occidet ; sed nulla nox succedet. 
 
 We should form but an inadequate idea of the public 
 services of our venerated friend and instructor, if we 
 omitted to consider what he did for the city of Provi- 
 dence and the State of Rhode Island. Had he been 
 a native born son, he could not have identified himself 
 
34 
 
 more perfectly with all their interests. Ancestral asso- 
 ciations from the time of Roger Williams downwards 
 could have added nothing to his pride in their fair fame. 
 When he first came to Providence, it was just passing 
 from the dimensions of a thriving town to the larger 
 proportions of a wealthy and prosperous city. While 
 it was in this transition state so favorable to the recep- 
 tion of formative influences, he threw himself without 
 reserve into its institutions, educational, benevolent and 
 religious. In his wise care and forethought many of 
 these had their origin, while all were moulded to a 
 greater or less extent under the influence of his efforts 
 and counsels. In every enterprise of public spirit, in 
 every plan for social improvement, in every eftbrt at 
 moral reform, in every labor for ameliorating the con- 
 dition of the unfortunate, from whatever cause, the 
 citizens habitually looked to him as their leader. On 
 all occasions of public interest, it was his views that 
 were most sought ; it was the opinions expressed by 
 him that had the greatest influence. 
 
 The charities of the city and State, the humbler as 
 well as the nobler, found in him not only an earnest 
 advocate, but in proportion to his means a most liberal 
 contributor. To some of the more important of these 
 he gave largely of his time. He was a trustee and 
 frequent visitor of the Butler Asylum for the Insane, 
 from its foundation down to near the close of his life. 
 He was for many years one of the inspectors of the 
 State prison. At his suggestion and through his influ- 
 ence, mainly, important changes were introduced, which 
 greatly improved the condition, both physical and 
 moral, of its inmates. From a mere place of confine- 
 
35 
 
 raent, it was converted into a well-ordered disciplinary 
 institution. Previously its maintenance had been a 
 heavy expense to the State. It now became, through 
 its work-shops, a source of no inconsiderable revenue. 
 During a large part of the last twenty years of his 
 life, he conducted every week a bible class composed 
 of convicts. The spectacle presented was most im- 
 pressive, — one which angels might desire to look 
 upon, — as with heart full of love to God and man, and 
 thought intent on serving one and doing good to the 
 other, he took his way on the quiet Sabbath morning 
 towards yonder prison, to seek there the outcasts from 
 society, the children of shame and sin and crime, to 
 gather them around him, and to tell them in language 
 of indescribable simplicity and tenderness, of a Saviour 
 who loves them and who has died for them ; of an 
 atonement so large and so free that each one of them, 
 however guilty, may have pardon and cleansino- ; to 
 lift them by his broad overflowing sympathies from 
 their sense of forsakeness and isolation ; to kindle 
 repentings within them ; to awaken anew their moral 
 affections; and to restore their broken relations to 
 humanity, to God and to Heaven. He may have done 
 many things of which the world will think more and 
 longer, but his great life offers nothing surpassing in 
 moral grandeur these almost divine labors. 
 
 The poor everywhere found in Dr. Wayland a friend 
 and helper. He was known to a very large number of 
 this class through his private benefactions. He was 
 continually sought by persons of all classes for his advice, 
 his counsel and his sympathy. He probably held more 
 numerous personal relations than any other man in the 
 
36 
 
 ♦ 
 city. Every one of these he made the channel of some 
 
 species of benefit. The nobleness of his nature was 
 manifested no less strikingly in the ordinary walks of 
 daily life, than in the more prominent and public situa- 
 tions to which he was called. In heroic and self-denying 
 labors, in unceasing care and thought for the public 
 good, in largeness of views and in breadth of interests 
 and sympathy, in weight of character and influence, in 
 intellectual resources and power, and in all the elements 
 of moral greatness, he was by universal consent the 
 foremost citizen of Rhode Island. Nee viget qidcqiiam, 
 simile aid secundum. 
 
 A few months before his death, an occasion arose for 
 a touching exhibition of the respect in which he was 
 held by the whole community.' The country had in 
 an instant been plunged from the height of joy into the 
 deepest mourning. Its honored and beloved chief 
 magistrate, at the moment when he was most honored 
 and most beloved, had fallen by paricidal .hand. The 
 greatness of the loss, the enormity of the crime, and 
 the terrible suddenness of the blow, bewildered thought 
 and paralyzed speech. It seemed as if Providence, 
 which had just vouchsafed so great blessings, was, from 
 some inscrutable cause, withdrawing its protective care. 
 In this hour of darkness, to whom should the citizens 
 go but to him who had so often instructed and guided 
 them ? As evening draws on, they gather from all 
 quarters, and with one common impulse turn their 
 steps eastward. Beneath a weeping sky, the long dark 
 column winds its way over the hill and into the valley. 
 As it moves onward, the wailings of the dirge and the 
 measured tread are the only sounds which fall upon 
 
37 
 
 the still air. Having reached the residence of Presi- 
 dent Wayland, it pours itself in a dense throng around 
 a slightly raised platform in front of it. Presently he 
 appears, to address for the last time, as it proves, his 
 assembled fellow citizens. It is the same noble presence 
 which many there had in years long gone by, gazed 
 upon with such pride and admiration from seats in the 
 old chapel. It is the same voice whose eloquence then 
 so inflamed them, and stirred their young bosoms to 
 such a tumult of passion. The speaker is the same ; 
 the audience is the same. But how changed bath ! and 
 how altered the circumstances ! That hair playing in 
 the breeze has been whitened by the snows of seventy 
 winters. That venerable form is pressed by their 
 accumulated weight. The glorious intellectual power 
 which sat upon those features is veiled beneath the 
 softer lines of moral grace and beauty. It is not now 
 the Athenian orator, but one of the old prophets, from 
 whose touched lips flow forth the teachings of inspired 
 wisdom. The dead first claims his thought. 'He 
 recounts most appreciatively his great services, and 
 dwells with loving eulogy upon his unswerving patriot- 
 ism and his high civic virtues. Next the duties of the 
 living and the lessons of the hour occupy attention. 
 Then come words of devout thanksgiving, of holy trust, 
 of sublime faith, uttered as he only ever uttered them. 
 They fall upon that waiting assembly, like a blessed 
 benefaction, assuaging grief, dispelling gloom, and kind- 
 ling worship in QYery bosom. God is no longer at a 
 distance, but all around and within them. They go 
 away strengthened and comforted. 
 
38 
 
 Notwithstanding the multiplicity of his labors Presi- 
 dent Wajdand found leisure for such reading. I have 
 known few men who would absorb the contents of a 
 book in so brief a space of time. Turning over its 
 pages, he took in at a glance their import and meaning ; 
 and so tenacious was his memory, that what he had thus 
 rapidly gathered he rarely if ever forgot. In his selec- 
 tion of books, he was determined more by what inter- 
 ested him, than by any deliberately formed plan of 
 study. As his interests were broad, his reading em- 
 braced an unusually large variety of subjects. Travels, 
 biographies, history, science, art and literature furnished 
 the ample materials from which his mind, by a sort of 
 elective affinity, amassed its wealth of knowledge. 
 
 As might be expected, from the manner in which 
 they were made, his acquisitions were characterized 
 rather by breadth and comprehension, then by minute 
 accuracy of detail or systematic throughness. He was 
 not a learned man in the proper sense of that term. 
 There was perhaps no subject which others had not 
 studied more exhaustively than he. But the field 
 which he had explored was wide, and his gatherings 
 from it were large. It has not been my fortune to 
 become acquainted with any man, who had, stored 
 away in a capacious memory, more that one would 
 desire to know, or less, I may add, that was not worth 
 knowing. 
 
 Another consequence of his habit of varied and 
 somewhat discursive reading, was the absence of any 
 controlling order or system in his acquisitions. The 
 separate facts, instead of being connected by formal 
 relations, lay in his mind in associations determined 
 
39 
 
 very much by his own individual tastes, interests and 
 habits of thought. It was this subjective grouping, this 
 mental assimilation of the materials of his knowledg-e, 
 that imparted to it such vitality, and made it not so 
 much a possession, as a part of himself, — which gave to 
 his ideas on the most ordinary subjects, the freshness 
 and force of originality. 
 
 In early life he was a diligent student of Johnson. 
 The vigorous thought, stately periods and brilliant 
 antitheses of the great English moralist awakened his 
 youthful admiration, and exerted a marked influence 
 upon his style. Later both his taste and his manner of 
 writing became more simple. At all periods of his life, 
 the Bible was his constant companion. From that he 
 drew inspiration. Through that he entered into a 
 deeper knowledge of the character of God, and the 
 nature of man. Daily and hourly he drank in wisdom 
 from it. After Shakspeare, Milton and Cowper were his 
 favorite poets. Of the writers of romance he preferred 
 Scott. His graphic descriptions of scenery, and his life- 
 like delineations of character, as well as the historic 
 element which pervades his writings, raised them, in his 
 estimation, quite above the pages of mere fiction. He 
 had a quick sense of the ludicrous, and enjoyed with a 
 keen zest the whimsical fancies of Hood, the delicate 
 humor of Irving, and the broader comic scenes of 
 Dickens. 
 
 In that struggle which is ever going forward between 
 the retiring and the coming under the banners of con- 
 servatism and progress, in that ceaseless war which, 
 from the very elements of human character and con- 
 dition, must be waged in one form or another, between 
 
40 
 
 the past and the future on the battle ground of the 
 present, Dr. Wayland was always found, no less in his 
 later than in his earlier years, in the advance of the 
 party of progress. No man had a sublimer faith in the 
 destinies of the race. No one, in anticipating those desti- 
 nies, clothed them in the drapery of a more gorgeous 
 imagination. The failures of the past could not shake 
 his confidence in the future. From the mournful teach- 
 ings of history even, he gathered an inner lesson of 
 encouragement and hope. At no time had anything 
 been really lost. The best forms of civilization which 
 the world had seen, had indeed fallen into decay, or 
 yielded themselves a prey to violence; but out of their 
 ruins had emerged new civilizations, embodying all 
 the best elements of the old, together with some 
 higher principle, which in them was wanting. The 
 thread of progress^ which for a time seemed broken 
 and turned backwards, reappears to guide our steps 
 anew through the historic labyrinth. 
 
 It was not, however, from the prophecies of the 
 past, nor from the tendencies of the present, that he 
 chiefly derived his hopes of the race. Neither was it 
 from man's intellectual endowments, however exalted, 
 nor from the magnificent attendance of material agents 
 and forces which stand* ever ready to do his bidding. 
 Nor yet was it from his unaided moral nature. This was 
 too weak to bear the strain to which it was necessarily 
 subjected. It succumbed under pressure Through all 
 time its failure had been most lamentable — the fruitful 
 source alike of individual and national disaster and ruin. 
 
 It was only in the moral nature of man supple- 
 mented by the new forces imported into it by Chris- 
 
41 
 
 tianity that he found assured ground for faith in his 
 continued progress. Upon this turned, as he believed, 
 the destinies of the race, both in this world and in 
 the world to come. Hence his unceasino; labors in all 
 ways and by all means, in season and out of season, 
 amid the most varied public services, and under the 
 pressure of constant professional duty — labors con- 
 tinued without intermission or remission through a 
 whole lifetime, for spreading a knowledge of the Gos- 
 pel, and bringing men in heart and in life under the 
 sway of its principles. Speaking of Christianity as 
 the only pillar upon which his hopes for himself and for 
 his race rested, he once said, with great earnestness, 
 " any doubt concerning that would be to me a greater 
 calamity than the sinking of a continent." 
 
 Of the numerous works given by President Wayland 
 to the public, two are biographical and one is contro- 
 versial. The remainder are educational, didactic and 
 religious. The latter are all eminently practical in 
 their aims. I am unable to recall a single question, of 
 a purely speculative character, discussed or even for- 
 mally stated in them. Important truths pertaining to 
 man's higher interests, whether revealed in conscious- 
 ness, or made known by the teachings of inspiration, 
 or resting upon the broader basis of human experience, 
 are unfolded, illustrated and enforced. Rarely is much 
 time given to the discussion of principles. These in 
 ethics and for the most part in metaphysics, approxi- 
 mate so closely to intuitions, that little is needed 
 beyond their exact and clear statement. Truths which 
 lie so remote from the common sense of mankind, that 
 they can be reached only hy long trains of reasoning, 
 
• 42 
 
 will be found practically inoperative. The more 
 immediately the doctrines of philosophy, of morals 
 and of religion are made to spring from that sense, the 
 stronger will be their hold upon the conduct and the 
 life. No one comprehended this fact more fully or 
 knew better how to avail himself of it than President 
 Wayland. The most extended inference to be found 
 in all his writings, is covered by his favorite word 
 " hence." To this direct emergence of his teachings 
 from truths recognized by all, is due in no small 
 degree their power over the popular mind. Occasion- 
 ally it diminishes somewhat their interest, by imparting 
 to them a too elementary character. 
 
 In the leading tenets of his intellectual philosophy 
 he conforms most nearly t© the doctrines of Stewart 
 and Reid, * Although he has evidently perused with 
 great care, the philosophical writings of Sir William 
 Hamilton, and losses no opportunity of testifying the 
 profoundest admiration for his genius, we find in his 
 work fewer traces of the peculiar views of the latter, 
 than might have been expected. On neither percep- 
 tion nor original suggestion does he follow his doubtful 
 teachings. In truth, however well fitted for understand- 
 ing and appreciating one another, the American Presi- 
 dent and the great Scottish Professor possessed minds 
 cast in different moulds, and characterized by different 
 tendencies. In one, the moral predominated over the 
 intellectual ; in the other, the intellectual over the 
 moral. One sought truth from a conviction of its 
 inestimable value; the other rather for the pleasure of 
 the excitement attending the pursuit. "Fruit" was 
 the motto of one; "activitj^" and "life" were the 
 
43 
 
 watchwords of the other. Both conceive with great 
 strength and vividness. Both hold their conceptions 
 with a steadiness that never wavers. Both mark with 
 unerring precision their contents. , Both know equally 
 well how to draw them from their several momenta. If 
 the philosophical perceptions of Sir William are more 
 varied and profomid, those of Dr. Wayland are instinct 
 with a deeper and more living earnestness. If the 
 discriminations of the former are sharper and more 
 penetrating, those of the latter follow with a finer sense 
 the natural cleavages of thought. If the former deals 
 in larger, bolder generalizations, the latter conducts us 
 to truths of greater importance — of more immediate 
 and practical value.* 
 
 I do not think that processes of pure and simple 
 ratiocination had great attraction for Dr. Wayland. It 
 was not so much that they tasked too severely the 
 logical faculty, as because they held in restrain the im- 
 agination, with him unusually active, and offered noth- 
 ing that addressed the moral and gesthetic sensibilities, 
 forming so large and important a part of his nature. 
 The habit of his mind was inductive rather than deduc- 
 tive. Analysis was the instrument which he chiefly 
 used in the search for truth, and illustration the means 
 habitually employed by him in conveying it to others. 
 
 If mere argument was little to his taste, still less so 
 was controversy, whatever the subject or with whatever 
 of chivalrous couttesy it might be conducted. With 
 Milton he preferred to conterpplate " the bright coun- 
 tenance of trifth" rather than to meet and oppose 
 
 * The above paragraph, is substantially from an article by the author in the 
 North American Review, July, 1855. 
 
44 
 
 error. When however he consented to enter the lists, 
 he proved no mean combatant. His great strength 
 and his advantages of stature more than compensated 
 for any want of practice or skill in the use of weapons. 
 If he was not always sufficiently on his guard, if he 
 sometimes incautiously opened himself to an unex- 
 pected thrust from a more agile foe, the well-wrought 
 mail of principles with which he was panoplied saved 
 him from any serious injury. If he did not insert the 
 keen blade of an Adams into the joints of his antago- 
 nist's armor, he crashed in that armor by the Titan-like 
 blows which he dealt upon it. But these knightly 
 passages-at-arms were foreign to his inclination and 
 habits, and he rarely allowed himself to be drawn 
 into them. 
 
 The intellectual processes disclosed in his writings 
 are genuine and thorough. They are characterized 
 by breadth rather than subtlety. His words, always 
 well chosen, are woven into periods which render 
 with scrupulous fidelity his meaning. His paragraphs 
 moved steadily forward. There is no pause, no ter- 
 giversation, but constant progress in the thought. 
 Each sentence goes with the directness of an arrow to 
 its mark ; and when the exposition of the law or the 
 discussion of the topic is finished, there is left on the 
 mind an impression of singular completeness. Not a 
 word employed could have been spared ; not another 
 word was needed. 
 
 Perspicuity is the mo^t striking quality of his style. 
 His ideas, always clear and well defined, clothe them- 
 selves in language having the transparency of crystal. 
 The thought is self-luminous and the expression is 
 
45 
 
 irradiated by its light. This is true of his plainest 
 and most ordinary writing. When he rises above the 
 merely didactic, when he approaches the higher themes 
 of human welfare and destinj^, when with powers fully 
 aroused he pours around his subject the boundless 
 wealth of an exuberant imagination, his periods kindle 
 and blaze with surpassing splendor. No mere phos- 
 phorescent glow then marks the track of his thought. 
 It is the lightning's flash instantly illuminating every 
 object and flooding the whole air with its dazzling 
 brightness. There are passages in his writings which 
 for brilliancy are hardly surpassed by anything in the 
 language. 
 
 President Wayland possessed an emotional nature of 
 great depth and richness. No man was more pro- 
 foundly stirred by the forms of material grandeur 
 presented in the outward universe. No bospm glowed 
 with a more generous admiration of high intellectual 
 power, or kindled with a livelier enthusiasm at the 
 exhibition of lofty virtue. No soul bowed in deeper 
 reverence before Gfod, or lifted itself more adoringly 
 to the contemplation of His being and attributes. No 
 heart was more easily moved to sympathy or responded 
 more warmly to the claims of charity, of friendship 
 and of country. He had all the affections and impulses 
 of a noble nature. He loved justice and right and 
 truth, and hated and despised their opposites. In pro- 
 portion to his admiration of disinterestness and gen- 
 erosity, was his loathing of selfishness, the meanness 
 of it affecting him even more than the sin. His detes- 
 tation of injustice and wrong had the strength of a 
 passion. Systematic and banded oppression of the 
 
46 
 
 weak by the strong, awakened in him an intense and 
 burning indignation, to which, though a master of the 
 language of emotion, he could give but feeble ex- 
 pression. 
 
 It was this depth and fervor of feeling that fitted 
 him so eminently for the treatment of moral themes 
 and made his tributes to virtue so inspiring, and his 
 denunciations of vice so withering and terrible. It 
 was this which gave such power to his exhortations, 
 his appeals, his rebukes and his warnings. It was 
 feeling welling up from its deep sources that quickened 
 his intellectual faculties into their finest action — which 
 put his mind on wing and imparted to it in its higher 
 flights, such breadth and clearness of vision — which 
 kindled to its brightest efi"ulgence his imagination and 
 inspired his loftiest strains of eloquence. 
 
 This warmth of temperament, while it was the source 
 of so much that was generous in character, and while it 
 contributed so largely to his power and influence, occa- 
 sionally betrayed him into hasty judgments which 
 were not alwaj^s just towards others. When, however, 
 he discovered the wrong, though it were in thought 
 only, he was most prompt in reparation. The same 
 ardor also sometimes, showed itself in too impetuous 
 action. In carrying out a principle with whose impor- 
 tance he had become impressed, he was liable not to 
 keep sufficiently in view its intersections by other gen- 
 eral truths of equal moment. Gravity is coextensive 
 with the material universe. In our world it is met at 
 innumerable points by other coordinate forces which 
 modify indefinitely its manifestations. 
 
47 
 
 Although by no means a stranger to the lighter forms 
 of emotion usually termed sentiment, these did not, like 
 the deeper pulses of moral feeling, pervade and con- 
 trol his whole nature. They were not the atmosphere 
 in which he lived and moved and had his being. When 
 uuder their influence, no one could give them more 
 graceful expression. The extreme delicacy of the lan- 
 guage in which he breathes forth sentiment in some of 
 his more touching tributes to friendship and exalted 
 worth, makes us almost regret that these tender effu- 
 sion-s do not more frequently grace his pages. As an 
 example, I would instance his discourse on the life and 
 character of the Hon. Nicholas Brown, the introductory 
 portion of which contains passages of great pathos and 
 beauty; also his address to Dr. Nott, of Union College, 
 on the fiftieth anniversary of his presidency, in which 
 he pays in accents so moving the grateful homage of a 
 pupil to a beloved and venerated instructor, closing 
 with those almost daring words, which, if they ever had 
 fitting application among the sons of men, found it in 
 him who, in the fullness of his heart, so pathetically 
 uttered them : " Heaven will account itself richer as 
 it opens its pearly, gates to welcome thy approach; 
 but where shall those who survive find anything left 
 on earth that resembles thee." 
 
 There is a force in the natural world which has 
 received the designation of catalytic. It is sometimes 
 called the power of presence. Bodies in which it 
 resides have the marvellous property of transmuting 
 other bodies by mere contact into their likeness. The 
 force is too subtile for analysis, and has hitherto defied 
 all attempts at explanation. Philosophers have con- 
 
48 
 
 tented themselves with simply noting and naming it. 
 The fact has its analogy in the moral world. There 
 are men who possess a similar power of presence. An 
 influence goes out from them equally controlling and 
 alike incapable of analysis or philosophical explanation. 
 President Wayland presented a most striking example 
 of this. It was felt by all who came near him. His 
 power as a speaker and as a teacher depended largely 
 upon it. The same utterances might come from others, 
 but how slight comparatively their effect ! The same 
 truths might be impressed by others, but how unlike 
 their moulding influence ! The same principles might 
 be inculcated by others, but how different their trans- 
 forming power! Behind the utterances, back of the 
 teachings, was a living soul from which proceeded 
 emanations entirely distinct and separate from ideas 
 and quite independent of language. The subtile in- 
 fluence poured through the eye. It streamed from the 
 features. It flowed through the voice. Gesture, pos- 
 ture and form were its silent vehicles. It emphasized 
 thought; it energized expression; it vitalized ideas. 
 It awoke aspiration ; it kindled enthusiasm ; it devel- 
 oped power. It was the direct efflux of spiritual energy 
 by which a great nature transformed other natures, in 
 proportion to their capacities, into its own likeness. It 
 is the want of this incommunicable power which is most 
 felt by his pupils in the perusal of his writings, and 
 which makes them unwilling to admit that he has pro- 
 duced anything equal to himself 
 
 To rare intellectual and moral endowment was united 
 in our venerated friend a nature profoundly religious. 
 To this was added a temperament of great earnestness, 
 
40 
 
 exalted by a certain intense realism. Life was to him no 
 holiday. It was full of grave interests and high trusts 
 and great responsibilities, with issues more momen- 
 tous than the human mind could conceive. The distant 
 and the future, presented through his vivid imagination, 
 were as real as the present. God, heaven, the immortal 
 life and death eternal, were something more than vague 
 ideas, or remote possibilities ; they were great, over- 
 shadowing facts ; instant and pressing realities. At the 
 market, in places of assembly, by the wayside, every- 
 where, he saw men having undying souls, which, if not 
 saved through faith in Jesus Christ, must be forever 
 lost; for whose welfare, both here and hereafter, he, 
 in proportion to the ability given him, would be held 
 accountable. Life under such conditions and with such 
 surroundings, could not but be earnest. No fanatical 
 elements, however, mingled in it. It was free even 
 from Puritanic severity. His nature was a healthy one, 
 full of genial and kindly impulses. He was joyous, 
 and at times sportive even, but trifling never. In early 
 and middle life he was much sought by society, and 
 was the pride of every circle in which he moved. His 
 brilliant conversation, his sparkling wit, and his quick 
 repartee made him the charm of the dinner table. 
 But these social pleasures he never allowed to interfere 
 with life's work. They were only silver facings on the 
 garments of duty which he always wore. To meet 
 the approval of the great Taskmaster, in whose eye he 
 ever acted, was his constant endeavor. His motives 
 were drawn from the unseen world. To that his aspira- 
 tions continually tended. Of that, as years advanced, 
 
50 
 
 he became more and more a denizen, so that wheii the 
 time of his departure came, it seemed but a slight 
 removal. 
 
 In estimating the permanent results of President 
 Wayland's life, we should consider, I think, not merely 
 or principally his writings, important and valuable as 
 these are. We should look rather to the characters 
 which he moulded, and to the moral and religious forces 
 which he set in action. These, as well as the produc- 
 tions of his pen, still live and will continue to live. 
 Where in all the land can be found a place in which 
 to-day he is not working, directly or indirectly, through 
 those whose minds he formed and inspired ? In how 
 many halls of learning is he now giving instruction ! 
 from how many pulpits holding forth the w^ord of life ! 
 on how many benches dispensing justice ! at how many 
 bars defending the rights of citizens ! In how many 
 pagan lands is he imparting to minds darkened by 
 superstition and idolatry, a knowledge of the only true 
 God, and of the way of salvation through Jesus Christ ! 
 Nor will his influence terminate with the lives of those 
 who were its immediate recipients. Moral forces never 
 die. By a law of their nature they perpetuate and 
 extend and multiply themselves indefinitely. When 
 the marble in yonder hall, to which, through your 
 thoughtfulness, those noble features have been com- 
 mitted, shall have crumbled, and the unborn genera- 
 tions that will look upon it, shall have mingled in com- 
 mon dust, the impulses which proceeded from him will 
 be still acting in circles of influence ever widening and 
 reaching larger and yet larger numbers. •* 
 
51 
 
 Friend of our youth, our instructor, exemplar and 
 guide! we shall, see thy face and hear thy voice no 
 more. Thou hast done with earth. Its dusty ways are 
 trodden by thee no longer. The impenitence and per- 
 versity of sinful men have ceased to grieve thee. Thou 
 now walkest the streets of the golden city. Angels 
 are thine attendants, and the spirits of the just made 
 perfect are thy companions. The mysteries which, 
 while here, thou didst desire to look into, are resolved. 
 Thou hast opened thine eyes upon the beatific vision. 
 The throne of God and of the Lamb is before thee. 
 Thou gazest with unstricken sight upon the effulgent, 
 unutterable Glory. We wait on earth yet a little, and 
 then will follow thee. 
 
THE 
 
 BRUNONIAN 
 
 A MAGAZINE 
 
 f ttWi^h^i bg Ito^^nmr ^ ^mm ^hmi^^ 
 
 BEOWN UNIYEKSITY. 
 
 VOLUMES I. AND II. 
 
 PEOVIDENCE : 
 PROVIDENCE PEESS COMPANY, PRINTERS, 16 WEYBOSSET STREET. 
 
 1869. 
 
m. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 Among the Mackerel Catchers 104 
 
 College Discipline 31 
 
 COLLEGIANA 39, 77, 114 
 
 College Music 26 
 
 Conventional Laws of Society, The 59 
 
 Day on the Saguenay, A 55 
 
 Education 42 
 
 Fairy Queen, The 91 
 
 Independence of Character 35 
 
 Just Claims of Fiction, The 94 
 
 Mirabeau 80 
 
 Modern System of Advertisement, The 45 
 
 Our Quarterly 1 
 
 Permanence of Literary Fame, The 73 
 
 President Sears 17 
 
 President Wayland 6 
 
 Keminiscences of the Summer 69 
 
 Bes Augusta Domi 64 
 
 Kesults of the Baconian System, The 14 
 
 Sniff of Mountain Air, A 98 
 
 Spirit of Detraction, The 86 
 
 Study of Natural History in College, The 110 
 
 Thor, the Hero-God of Scandinavian Mythology 95 
 
 Trip up Lake George, A ' - 82 
 
 Usury and Usury Laws 21 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 Cupid Stung 21 
 
 Tarpeia 97 
 
 VOLUME IL 
 
 Beau Brummell 166 
 
 Christian Saturnalia, The 77 
 
 COLLEGIANA 43, 137, 193 
 
 Concerning Flyaway's Tour 149 
 
 Diet of the Romans, The 164 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 Element of Beauty in Hellenic Culture, The 171 
 
 Eugenie de Guerin 47 
 
 Four Sided Komance, A 5 
 
 Heroic Days of Byron, The 157 
 
 Home Matters. — Editorial, The Hundredth, The Faculty, The Dunn 
 Scholarship, From '68, Hammer and Tongs, Base Ball, The College 
 Boat-Club, A Eeading Room, Bishop Seabury Association, Presi- 
 dent's Prizes, Lectures, The Editbr's Window-Seat 28 
 
 The Reason Why, Society Publications, The Sears Reading Room, 
 New Portrait in Rhode Island Hall, The Catalogue, Dr. Chace's Lec- 
 tures, Editor's Window Seat 84 
 
 Editorial, In Memoriam, The College Muscle, Alumni Organization, 
 
 The Yang Lang, Editor's Window Seat 124 
 
 Editorial, Class Day, Junior Ex., Glee Club, Ball Matters, Hope De- 
 ferred, Trees, Prize Declamation, A Freshman Excursion, Editor's 
 
 Farewell, Editor's Window Seat 176 
 
 Legends of King Arthur, The 143 
 
 Marriage Question, The 63 
 
 Milton's Travels in Italy 1 
 
 Modern Cassandra, A 60 
 
 Mythical Element of German Literature, The 71 
 
 Newspapers and their Influence 13 
 
 Other Side of the Question, The 119 
 
 Poet's Teacher, The 112 
 
 Reminiscences of Mt. Mooseilauke, 105 
 
 Smith's Horse 103 
 
 Tennyson's Power; 95 
 
 Tradition of the Seekonk, A 109 
 
 Up at Worcester 20 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 At Hunt's Mill 166 
 
 Christmas Eve 70 
 
 On Receiving a Typolite Likeness 108 
 
 Persian Idyl, A t 17 
 
 Suspiria • 148 
 
 With Arbutus 102 
 
roi,. 11 
 
 '\ 
 
 M:A.K0H, 1868. 
 
 jsro. 1. 
 
 WILLIAM H. LYON, 
 
 ALVIN M. CRANE, 
 
 EDITORS FOR 68. 
 
 LUCIUS 0. ROCKWOOD, 
 
 EDITORS FOR '69. 
 
 JOHN S. HUTCHINSON, 
 
 JAMES SCAMMON. 
 
 PRESTON D. JONES. 
 
 OUR QUARTERLY. 
 
 In this number of the Brunonian the students of Brown 
 University inaugurate a new literary enterprise. We say new, 
 for so it is to our day. A careful perusal of the history of our 
 University shows that more than the number of years allotted 
 to a generation have rolled away, since a monthly magazine, 
 bearing the name of " The Brunonian,''^ lived a short life of 
 twelve numbers, and then quietly took its place among the 
 things that had been. Few of those now in college know even 
 of its existence, and -scarcely any traces are found beyond the 
 jealously guarded file collected by our indefatigable Librarian. 
 After the death of the monthly, the spirit which had originated 
 it seems to have slumbered, like Rip Van Winkle, for a quarter 
 of a century, when it again presented itself to this progressive 
 world, in the unassuming sheet of The Brown Paper ; but in 
 this modern time of the University's history, it has been deter- 
 mined to renew the premature experiment of its Middle Ages, 
 to see if, after a fair trial, with the advantages of all kinds which 
 are now presented, the Brunonian may not become an acknow- 
 ledged success. 
 
 The ideas and intentions, perhaps vague and transient, which 
 had been floating in the minds of public spirited students for 
 
^ OUR QUARTERLY. 
 
 the past four or five years, first found public expression in meet- 
 ings of the classes of Sixtj-Eight and Sixty-Nine, immediately 
 before the Thanksgiving recess, at which committees were ap- 
 pointed to confer respecting the advisability of the publication, 
 by the two classes, of some sort of a periodical. The commit- 
 tees reported in favor of establishing a quarterly magazine, of 
 substantially the present form. The report was adopted enthusi- 
 astically by the juniors, rather more coolly, to say the least, by 
 the seniors, whether from superior sagacity or from a conserA'^a- 
 tism natural to the ponderous dignity of their position, they alone 
 can tell. However, the magazine was launched with six editors 
 at the helm. 
 
 The history of literary ventures shows, — and the fact must 
 become patent to the most cursory examination of the subject, — 
 that the financial department of such enterprises is by no means the 
 least deserving of attention. In consequence of the perception 
 of this important fact, it was determined first to test the pecuni- 
 ary support of the undertaking. A circular was addressed to 
 the Alumni calling for their aid, while collectors appealed per- 
 sonally to the undergraduates. The effect of the circular was 
 various. Some of those addressed returned a ready subscription, 
 often accompanied with valuable and cheering advice. Others 
 bestowed the amount upon the applicant like a gracious personal 
 favor, but with a prophetic shake of the head, and the consoling 
 prediction that the undertaking, like those beloved of the gods, 
 would find an early grave. The reception of the collectors, 
 whose application showed that the editors were in earnest, was 
 as various as that of the circular. Many of the students evinced 
 a laudable public spirit in their immediate payment. Others 
 would fain wait for a more convenient season, while still others 
 refused their entire countenance and support. The caution of 
 certain Freshmen deserves especial notice. Remembering the 
 fate of past foot-ball contributions, they refused, with a shrewd- 
 ness scarcely to be expected from their years, to be inveigled 
 into subscribing to a bogus enterprise the hard-earned money of 
 their fathers, which would surely be spent in midnight banquets 
 by the artful and triumphant upper classmen. Thus the response 
 to the appeal for the substantial foundation of success was, on 
 the whole, slow and vexatiously delaying. No progress towards 
 
OUR QUARTERLY. 3 
 
 publication could be made under such uncertainties, and the 
 time passed rapidly away. Meanwhile, the clamors for the 
 appearance of the magazine, and the execrations against those 
 entrusted with its preparation, grew more loud and frequent, 
 and dark suspicions seemed to be floating about. 
 
 None can regret more than the editors the delay which has 
 occurred. But they believe that its cause will be found rather 
 in external circumstances, than within the editorial board. For, 
 besides the tardiness of subscription, which has been referred to, 
 other reasons may be assigned for the late appearance of the 
 first number. The time at which the idea was brought forward 
 and its realization commenced, was most unfortunate. The sec- 
 ond part of the term, in which the work of preparing the first 
 number was to be done, was short, and for the most part occu- 
 pied with preparations for the approaching examination. No 
 one could be found whose time allowed the leisure necessary for 
 writing an article, and the editors, occupied as well as the others, 
 were unequal to the accomphshment of the whole work. The 
 publication of the first number was reluctantly deferred to the 
 beginning of the present term — an action sustained by the advice 
 of those of the Faculty who were consulted. But, even then, 
 another difficulty appeared. The astonishing fact became gradu- 
 ally evident, that of the many w^ho were so enthusiastic for the 
 immediate initiation of the movement, and so sanguine of its 
 speedy and permanent success, few, from various reasons, Jelt 
 able to take a share in the necessary labor. The consequence 
 was, that the editors with a few others, have been compelled to 
 bear the whole burden of preparation, and its progress was neces- 
 sarily slow. If now to these causes of dilatoriness be added the 
 delays arising from the printing, &c., it is to be hoped that the 
 tardiness in publication will seem inevitable, and therefore readily 
 excusable. 
 
 But the Quarterly has at last appeared, and in this, its first 
 number, it is proper to state its character and intentions. It 
 has been decided to give it the name of its old monthly prede- 
 cessor, " The Brunonian,^^ not in the hope of inheriting its glory 
 and prestige, but evidence that the former undertaking has never 
 truly died, but that the same spirit which so ably filled the pages 
 of the old " Brunonian" is to be emulated in the columns of the 
 
4 OUB QUARTERLY. 
 
 new. It is our intention to make the Brunonian, as far as 
 possible, the faithful representative of literary culture and attain- 
 ments of the students of our University. We do not expect it 
 to become an JEdinburgh, or a North American, nor on the other 
 hand, to fall to the level of much of our previous college litera- 
 ture. To true wit, which " diverteth the mind from its road of 
 serious thoughts, by instilling gayety and airiness of spirit," its 
 columns shall ever be open ; but not to that kind of humor 
 which breaks forth in personal allusions, local puns, and scurri- 
 lous jests. On the other hand, it is to be hoped that it will not 
 become the repository of dry and stale essays, or of abtruse 
 treatises upon subjects interesting only to their writers. An 
 important feature will be the budget of College news, which 
 exchanges with similar publications and various other means will 
 replenish, and which will be made a source of keen interest and 
 valuable information. To be brief, the Brunonian will aim 
 to embrace a collection of most readable matter, especially of 
 value and interest to the collegian. To fullfil the designs of its 
 projectors, it must preserve a high standard of excellence, fully 
 adequate to its position as an offshoot of good old Brown stock, — 
 the production of one of the longest established and most effect- 
 ive of our American colleges. The editors do not claim that 
 the present number of the Brunonian, conforms fully to the 
 standard which they have here set up. Their own inexperience, 
 the disadvantages under which they labor, and the novelty of the 
 undertaking, prevent the complete realization of their ideal. But 
 they have conscientiously done their best, and leave improvement 
 to their successors. 
 
 The dress which the first number of the Brunonian is 
 obliged to assume, is, it must be confessed, a source of disappoint- 
 ment to its editors. They had fixed upon a more attractive and 
 elegant appearance. But it is found that the estimates, presented 
 to the classes by their committees, were based upon very much 
 the present form, from which it is found impossible to deviate for 
 the better without materially increasing the expense. Being 
 unwilHng to go beyond their prescribed limits, they are obhged 
 to transmit their hope to a larger subscription list and more 
 abundant means. 
 
 With regard to the future career of the Brunonian the 
 
OUR QUARTERLY. O 
 
 prospects seem bright. The circumstances under which it is 
 launched are pecuharly favorable. Our University, under its 
 new administration, is advancing with firmer step and brighter 
 face in the work which she has to do. It is naturally to be 
 expected that her increasing prosperity will stimvdate her sons to 
 renewed efforts to place her in the internal spirit and enterprise 
 of college life, by the side of similar institutions. Indubitable 
 signs already point to an awakening of our students to their 
 duties as sons of "old Brown," in their contests with those of 
 other Colleges, and we may safely predict that, in the midst of 
 their victories in the sports of the Campus, they will no longer 
 neglect to place their college literature among the finest in the 
 land. The exchanges already received are 'per se the tokens of 
 literary enterprise in other institutions of learning, and far more 
 pretentious publications than the Brunonian come to us from 
 Colleges of less resources and lower reputation than Brown. 
 The time has come, when, if we would keep pace with the 
 progress of the age,, we must provide some other College record, 
 some other evidence of our literary taste and culture, than a 
 single yearly sheet. And here it may be well to notice an 
 objection which has been urged against the Brunonian, — that 
 it will rival, and in time supplant, the '■''Brown Paper." The 
 objection confounds the character and functions of the two publi- 
 cations, while they are really unlike. The one is professedly the 
 organ of the Secret Societies — the other, of the whole College. 
 The Brunonian, as we have already said, is to be, as far as 
 practicable, the representative of the literary attainments of our 
 students. The Brovjn Paper is the exposition of the numbers 
 and members of the different societies and clubs, secret and 
 open, religious, musical and otherwise, — the repository of merry 
 jests and quibs, of items and matters of purely local interest. 
 Not until within two or three years has it made any attempt at 
 literary excellence. It is this very spirit of improvement, shown 
 in late issues of the Brown Paper, and especially in the fine 
 number of '68, upon which we may base a firm hope in the 
 certain success of the Brunonian. For this spirit, in its rapid 
 progress, must inevitably transcend the narrow limits of a yearly 
 sheet of eight pages. The Brown Paper can ill be spared from 
 our College life, but it does not fulfill all our requirements. 
 
6 PRESIDENT WAYLANP. 
 
 From the evidences of activity and progress among ourselves 
 as well as in other places of learning, we venture to hope that 
 the enterprise now inaugurated may prove a success, brilliant 
 and permanent. We believe that the interests of the Univer- 
 sity, the proper development and culture of its students, and 
 their pride as undergraduates of one of the oldest and most 
 honored institutions of our country, demand and guarantee its 
 prosperity. We believe that if conducted faithfully, with a lofty 
 standard of excellence, it will become a fixed affair, our pride 
 in the present, an interesting and valuable memento in the 
 future. We believe that if the students of Brown University 
 do their duty by it, the Brunonian will not prove like the 
 Kmpire of Charlemagne, an experiment in advance of its age, 
 as a contemporary has hinted, but rather an issue of the fullness 
 of time, developing its capacities more and more to meet increas- 
 ing wants, and so continually growing into a fixed and indispen- 
 sable institution. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 PRESIDENT WAYLAND: AN EXAMPLE TO YOUNG MEN. 
 
 A MEMOIK OF THE LITE AND LABORS OF FBANCIS "WAYLAND, D. D., LL. U., 
 LATE PKESIDENT OF BEOWN UNIVERSITY. BY HIS SONS. 2 VOLS., 1867. 
 
 We hesitate not to declare the work, the title of which we 
 have placed at the head of this article, one of the most impor- 
 tant that has come from the press of any publishing house dur- 
 ing the past year. The sons of President Wayland have faith- 
 fully performed their labor of recording the life of their father. 
 If they have erred in any respect, it is, perhaps, in failing to 
 consider some of the aspects of Doctor Wayland's life as related 
 to the religious denomination to which he belonged, and to pre- 
 sent the views he held on many religious and denominational 
 questions as peculiar to himself rather than common to the 
 denomination. There seems, also, to be a little partiality, unin- 
 tentional perhaps, in considering the so-called New System on 
 the condition and prosperity of Brown University. The authors 
 are inclined to attribute, as it seems to us, to the New System 
 the effects which came from the methods of instruction adopted 
 
PRESIDENT WAYLAND. i 
 
 hj President Wayland, and which appeared under the Old as 
 well as the New System. They also award to the New System 
 of college education as applied in Brown University under Presi- 
 dent Wayland praises of success which belong to it as a system, 
 but which, it seems to us, were not as evident in Brown Univer- 
 sity as the language of the authors would certainly imply. 
 
 But, when we consider the nature of the subject and the rela- 
 tions of the authors to him, whose life they present, we must say 
 that the work is singularly free from faults. The method adopted 
 by the biographers, of introducing the reminiscences written by 
 Doctor Wayland himself, and his correspondence with friends 
 and distinguished men, on questions pertaining to that work in 
 which he spent the best days of his life, serves to increase the 
 interest of the reader, and to bring him into closer relation to the 
 inner life and character of Doctor Wayland. 
 
 When we regard the life of President Wayland in all its 
 aspects, as a Christian minister, an educator, moralist, and 
 instructor, we are compelled to pronounce it a noble life, earn- 
 estly devoted to seeking out and promoting the highest good and 
 the best interests of humanity. His was a life full of instruc- 
 tion for every young man who desires to improve the faculties 
 with which he has been endowed, and to use those faculties in 
 earnest endeavors to promote the welfare of his country, and 
 to exert a beneficial influence over the minds of men. 
 
 Doctor Wayland though dead, still lives. The grave, while it 
 may conceal his manly form, cannot silence his voice. By the 
 mouths of those hundreds whose minds he moulded and whose 
 characters he formed, he still speaks. His voice of counsel and 
 instruction is still heard ; not alone in the University, so many 
 of whose sons he educated, but throughout our broad land, in 
 every place where the sons of Brown, or the words of her noble 
 President have penetrated. 
 
 To no class of persons does the life of President Wayland 
 speak in louder or cleai'er tones of warning or encouragement, of 
 counsel or rebuke, than to the young men of the present day. 
 It is eminently fitting that the example of him by whose pre- 
 cepts so many young men have profited, should continue to 
 instruct thai same class of persons in whose behalf he labored 
 during life. President Wayland was one of the most distin^ 
 
8 PRESIDENT WAYLAND. 
 
 guished men this country has ever produced. Nature designed 
 him for a great man, and a leader in the reahns of intellectual 
 activity. His influence over men, his power of forming the 
 character not only of his pupils, but of mankind at large, was 
 one of the most remarkable features of his life. It Avas thes 
 influence not only of superior intellectual power, but of superior 
 moral power. Men respected and trusted him, not only because 
 they felt that he was somewhat above them in intellectual acquire- 
 ments and endowments, but because they perceived that in all he 
 said or did he was governed by a profound sense of duty to God 
 and to man. Rarely has conscience borne such an important 
 part in the life and actions of a public man. The example of 
 such a man is well worthy the imitation of the young men of 
 our country. 
 
 The life of President Wayland teaches a lesson sadly needed, 
 we fear, by the young men of to-day. A careful observer can 
 scarcely fail to recognize in the prevailing sentiments and opin- 
 ions of society, especially of the younger portion of society, at 
 the present time, a tendency at least to take superficial and shal- 
 low views of life. Wealth and luxury are doing their work of 
 enervating and enfeebling the minds of our youth. Absorbed 
 in the accumulation of wealth which shall enable them to gratify 
 their desires to the fullest extent, the young men of the present 
 day seem to lose sight of the nobler ends of life. Political cor- 
 ruption and demagogism are doing their work of debasing the 
 standard of public virtue, and of giving to young men and to 
 society at large, false and mean views of those duties which 
 belong to American citizens. Everywhere one looks almost in 
 vain for those sturdy virtues and lofty sentiments which belonged 
 to our fathers. "It is essential to a republic," says Macchiavelli, 
 " to be carried back from time to time to the principles from 
 which it started." It is no less essential frequently to review and 
 carefully to ponder the lives of the men by whom these princi- 
 ples and their corresponding virtues have been developed. 
 
 Young men seem to be unwilling to prepare themselves for 
 the higher positions of society by diligent study and thorough 
 mental culture. We cannot wonder at this, since such positions 
 are so easily obtained among us, and the awarding of them 
 depends so little on superior intellectual abilities and acquire- 
 
PRESIDENT WAYLAND. 9 
 
 ments. This fact is not unknown to young men, and hence they 
 regard it as quite unnecessary that they should subject them- 
 selves to the severe labor of cultivating and disciplining their 
 minds, and turn their attention chiefly to ball-playing and boat- 
 racing, and in these exercises find opportunity to develop them- 
 selves. However heartily we may rejoice in this increased 
 attention to bodily health and physical culture, Ave cannot but 
 regard it as a calamity, that for the sake of these manly sports, 
 the study and the debating society, in which so many young men 
 have been educated and fitted to occupy positions of honor and 
 trust in society, should be forgotten. 
 
 At a time like the present, then, we welcome with joy what- 
 ever tends to inspire the minds of young men with loftiness of 
 ambition, firmness of resolve, and nobleness of purpose, and to 
 prepare them in their turn to become leaders in the realm of intel- 
 lectual activity and to receive on their shoulders the mantle of 
 those who now stand foremost in the ranks of the political as 
 well as the intellectual world. Something is needed to rouse the 
 energies, enlarge the ideas, and elevate the sentiments of the 
 young men of the present day. 
 
 It will be our purpose, then, in the remaining part of this 
 paper, to present President Wayland as an example to the young 
 men of our country. In so doing, we wish to address, not only 
 those who, in the halls of the University, are preparing them- 
 selves for usefulness in life, but all those who desire to cultivate 
 and improve their minds, and thus become honorable and useful 
 members of society. 
 
 No trait of President Wayland's character is more noticeable 
 than the lofty and almost solemn views which he took of life. 
 To him it was a serious thing to live. This trait appeared in 
 early life. Though we are not to suppose that his college-days 
 were idly spent, or their privileges and advantages squandered, 
 yet in the remark he made to his classmates before their final 
 separation, he shows that he had not yet discovered the full 
 powers and resources of his mind. "Boys," he said, " we have 
 never done what we could; we have not known what we can 
 do; let us from this time try to make our mark in the world." 
 In these words he sounded the key-note of his whole life. 
 Thenceforward he sought, by diligently cultivating the faculties 
 
10 PRESIDENT WAYLAND. 
 
 of his mind, to prepare himself for a laborious and useful life. 
 After his remarkable intellectual awakening and his spiritual 
 regeneration, he resolved to devote himself to preaching the 
 gospel. During the remainder of his life, he was more and more 
 deeply impressed with the importance of a faithful and serious 
 use of whatever blessings or privileges he enjoyed. He was no 
 idle dreamer following the vain fancies of his imagination. " All 
 his mind was set, serious to learn and know, and thence to do 
 what might be public good." He lived and labored " to promote 
 all truth, all righteous things." 
 
 For such an one, life was not a series of years to be passed in 
 the careless pursuit of worldy amusement or pleasure, with no 
 higher thought. It was rather a period which should be spent 
 in dilisentlv cultivatins; all the faculties of the soul and the 
 mind, and in earnest endeavors to benefit and improve mankind. 
 Such was indeed the life of President Wayland. In these lofty 
 and earnest views of human life we may find the secret of much 
 of the success with which his labors were crowned. From this 
 pure mountain spring flowed the clear and noble river of his 
 life. 
 
 Another quality of President Wayland's character, which it 
 would be well for young men to imitate, was his conscientious 
 devotion to duty, or as he himself forcibly expressed, " a dogged 
 instinct to do his duty." He entered on no new field of action, 
 resolved on no new course of conduct until his mind was entirely 
 satisfied of the right of the course he was about to pursue. But 
 when he was thus convinced that he was acting rightly, he 
 engaged in the work with all his powers of mind and body. 
 " Steady, unflinching earnestness in the work immediately before 
 him, was the rule of his life." All his tastes and inclinations, 
 all the energy of his nature, all the well disciphned faculties of 
 his mind," were subordinated to the one business of fulfilling, 
 to the best of his ability, whatever trust was reposed in him. 
 President Wayland's stern views of duty never allowed him to 
 ask himself " what will be agreeable ?" but rather " what will 
 be right ? " Self was left entirely out of the question. The 
 sacrifices required to enable him to pursue this course were 
 often very great ; but so resolutely did he persevere in this rule 
 of action, that in time, as will always be the case, to deny him- 
 
PRESIDENT WAYLAND. 11 
 
 self for the good of others and for the benefit of the cause in 
 which all his energies were enlisted, became so completely the 
 habit of his life, that any personal sacrifice demanded of him 
 was made without apparent effort. 
 
 There is a growing disposition on the part of the young men 
 of the present day, to undervalue the position in society to which 
 they have already attained, and to regard themselves as qualified 
 for the discharge of the duties of higher positions. Discontented 
 with their present occupations, they perform their duties carelessly, 
 looking constantly forward to the time when they shall stand on 
 higher ground. They seem to think that it is quite unnecessary 
 to begin at the foot of the mountain if they would climb to the 
 top. Owing to the scarcity of men competent to fill positions of 
 honor and trust in our country, such aspiring but unqualified 
 persons far too frequently attain to these high stations. But 
 these things ought not so to be. Well would it be for us, if our 
 young men would listen to the lesson taught them in the life of 
 President Wayland. With him it was a principle, adopted early 
 in life, to do well whatever he had to do, and look not to the 
 future. A minister who had held a number of public positions 
 once remarked to Doctor Wayland : " Wherever I have been, I 
 have always been thinking of something else, and preparing 
 myself for another position." Doctor Wayland replied : " I have 
 gone on just the opposite principle ; whatever I was doing, I 
 have always fixed my mind on that one thing, and tried not to 
 think of anything else." This was the wiser course, as the sue 
 cess with which his labors were crowned abundantly proves. 
 In pursuing this course he was preparing himself in the best way 
 for broader and higher spheres of usefulness, since he was disci- 
 plining and training his mental faculties under the most advanta- 
 geous circumstances, instead of weakening his control over them 
 by allowing his mind to wander hither and thither, seeking after 
 something which he did not possess. 
 
 In President Wayland's habits of study, we perceive the same 
 earnestness and thoroughness, as in everything else in which he 
 engaged. No part of his instructions while President of Brown 
 University were more valuable to the student, than the knowl- 
 edge he imparted in regard to the mind, and the proper methods 
 of cultivating and using the mental faculties. The course he 
 
12 PRESIDENT WAYLAND. 
 
 advised his pupils to pursue was the same which he himself 
 followed. While at College and the Seminary he was an 
 " ingrained student." By this we are far from meaning that he 
 learned to recite exactly the words of the lecture or of the text- 
 book. Study was, with him, no effort to fill the storehouse of 
 the mind with a mass of knowledge gathered from the various 
 fields of science and literature. It was the nobler effort to culti- 
 vate, to strengthen, and to gain complete control over all the 
 powers and faculties of his mind. He used his mind, and thor- 
 oughly digested whatever he learned from books, so that It 
 became a part of himself. 
 
 To him certain knowledge alone was valuable. He preferred 
 to apply himself diligently to some one subject and become 
 master of that, rather than divide his attention, directing his 
 energies to this subject a little and to that subject a little, with- 
 out knowing any thoroughly. Hence President Wayland was 
 never a great reader, but certainly was, what is far more impor- 
 tant, a great thinker. 
 
 President Wayland was never weary of "urging upon young 
 men the vital importance of continuous, conscientious study, of 
 forming the settled habit of close attention to the work in hand." 
 He, perhaps, more than most men of his time, possessed this 
 power of continuous and close application, of concentrating, at 
 all times, all the faculties of his mind upon whatever subject he 
 desired. In his habits of study he exemphfied, to a wonderful 
 degree, the saying of Dr. Johnson: "a man may write at any 
 time if he will set himself doggedly about it." Doctor Way- 
 land never asked himself whether he was in the best mood for 
 this or that kind of mental effort. He never humored the pass- 
 ing fancy of the moment. "He had some duty assigned for 
 every working hour of every day, and he compelled himself to 
 undertake the allotted task with unflinchino; determination." 
 How many young men, in every occupation of life, fail in this 
 very respect ! How many of us become almost powerless over 
 our minds, from this evil habit of yielding to the fancy of the 
 moment, rather than resolutely subduing our minds to the control 
 of our wills ! Let us listen to the instruction of this eminent 
 teacher, and, following his example, prepare ourselves for the 
 severe requirements and duties of an active and useful life, by 
 
PRESIDENT WAYLAND. 13 
 
 cultivating the habit, not only of occasional interest and effort, 
 but of "constant and wakeful mental earnestness," and of bringing 
 our minds, with all their acquisitions of knowledge and experi- 
 ence, completely under our control. 
 
 Doctor Wayland worked his own way in life. By steady, 
 persevering efforts, he won for himself whatever of honor he 
 enjoyed. " I never had any one to boost me," he used to say. 
 He thus learned to leave nothing to fortune, or to the influence 
 of friends, but to discharge faithfully and honestly the duties of 
 each day. It was in this manner that he gained that independ- 
 ence of thought and action, that habit of relying on his oWn 
 resources alone, which so distinguished him in early as well as 
 in later life. Hence it was that he liad so little respect for tra- 
 ditional wisdom, and persisted in forming his own opinions, and 
 in making up his own judgments, rather than accept the opinions 
 and estimates of others. 
 
 Although President Wayland was thus independent in form- 
 ing his opinions and judgments, he was ever ready to profit by 
 the wisdom of others, or by his own past experience. He 
 always cheerfully acknowledged his indebtedness to his early 
 instructors, Doctor Nott and Professor Stuart. Even when he 
 had acquired considerable reputation not only as a scholar, but 
 also as a man of sound judgment and practical wisdom, he 
 sought and heeded advice or counsel which he thought would 
 better enable him to perform the duties of his calling, or increase 
 his infliuence over those with whom he came in contact. He was 
 willing to learn from the humblest and lowliest in life, and could 
 profit by the suggestions of the sexton of his church, as well as 
 by the counsel of a college president. He sought to inform 
 himself on all subjects, and " delighted to gain important and 
 interesting facts from those whose occupations were far removed 
 from the natural direction of his own studies." The advantages 
 he thus gained were very great. Knowledge acquired in this 
 way was often of the greatest value to him, and was made to 
 subserve the most ends in the various treatises and lectures 
 which he contributed to philosophy, science and education. 
 May not the young men of to-day learn a lesson in this respect 
 from President Wayland ? Let us profit by his example, and 
 search more carefully after the pearls of knowledge which lie 
 strewn along the path of life. 
 
14 BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 President Wayland was deeply interested in the various politi- 
 cal questions which from time to time agitated the minds of the 
 people of the United States. The manner in which he formed 
 his judgments respecting political events, or determined on the 
 course he ought to pursue as a citizen, might be imitated by 
 politicians and people alike, with great profit to themselves and 
 the country. Here, as elsewhere, he adhered strictly to general 
 principles. In this, as in all other questions of duty, it proved 
 to be the safer and wiser course. He bound himself to no party. 
 " He could never give to party what was meant for mankind.' 
 His sympathies were always with that body of citizens, which, 
 for the time being, " sought to elevate humanity, and to promote 
 the cause of equal rights," 
 
 Certainly we cannot, at the present time, afford to loose or to 
 fail to profit by the example of one who exhibited so many of 
 the noblest elements of the human character. He has gone 
 from the scenes of earth. To his example and life we can look 
 as we cannot to those who are still going in and out befoi-e our 
 eyes. If the young men of our country who are soon to stand 
 foremost in the ranks of society will learn from the honored dead 
 and the illustrious living alike, the lesson of diligence, devotion 
 to duty, earnestness and self-dependence, and thus prepare them- 
 selves for the strict duties of life, these noble men will not have 
 lived in vain, and the country will gather a rich harvest as the 
 fruit of their labors. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 THE RESULTS OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY- 
 
 "For my name and memory I leave it to men's charitable 
 speeches, and to foreign nations, and to the next age." Such is 
 the last will of Francis Bacon. It proudly expresses his con- 
 sciousness, that his own age could not appreciate the services 
 which he had rendered to philosophy. That next age has come, 
 and its regard for Bacon has shown the prophetic wisdom of the 
 philosopher's bequest. His praises are in every land. But 
 mankind have not yet reached the high eminence where he 
 stood, and cannot yet survey the extent of his labors, or appre- 
 
BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 15 
 
 ciate the magnitude of their results. A mo.'e distant age must 
 do his memory complete justice. 
 
 To no man is the world so much indebted for the freedom of 
 the intellect, the extension of the sciences, the perfection of the 
 arts and the progress of the race, as to Francis Bacon. 
 
 To him is to be ascribed the emancipation of the intellect from 
 the prescriptive S3'^stem, which had bound and crippled its 
 energies for two thousand years. He removed the force, which 
 for ages had repressed its powers, and its elastic rebound hurled 
 into chaos the ridiculous notions of the ancient philosophers. 
 He changed the course of human thought. Man no longer sits 
 on the same bank of the same stream, washing forever the same 
 sands for the scattered particles of golden dust, but passes up to 
 its mountain source, where he opens an inexhaustible mine of 
 the richest treasure. The inquiring spirit need no longer toil in 
 fruitless wanderings in a labyrinth, where every step increases 
 the intricacy of the mazes and every turn more deeply involves 
 and bewilders the unfortunate victim, for philosophy has furnished 
 a clew, with which the most intricate passages may be securely 
 threaded. Prescriptive authority is dead, and the emancipated 
 intellect has where to stand, and with the lever of a new phil- 
 osophy it lifts the world. The predecessors of Bacon refused 
 to science her legitimate province, the deduction of laws from 
 the phenomena of nature, and sent her out in the vain pur- 
 suit of the subtle essence of mind and of matter. Lest she 
 might subject their ancient theories and cherished notions to the 
 test of immutable law, they persecuted her, until her only 
 refuge was in the dusky chamber of the recluse, or in the damp 
 cells of the cloister. Bacon set her free, and placed her over 
 her own dominion. 
 
 Astronomy^ whose dim flickerings once revealed only enough 
 of light to make visible the dai'k realms she sought to explore, 
 enough to excite the wild dreams of the astrologer, and rouse his 
 excited imagination to the fanciful belief, that the fate and the 
 character of every man are strangely linked with the star that 
 beams in the horizon at the hour of his birth, now diffusing wide 
 its glowing light, dispels the still lingering illusion of Ptolemy, 
 and reveals world on world, and system on system floating in 
 illimitable space, all bidding us read, not the destiny which con- 
 trols us, but the immutable laws which govern them. 
 
16 BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Ohemistry^ once the mighty wand, with which the fanatic 
 alchvmist disturbed the sleep of the wretched miser, and filled 
 his dreams with golden images of transmuted metals, is now a 
 living and productive science, performing wonders before which 
 the brightest dreams of the alchymist fade away. She transmutes 
 not only iron into gold, but barrenness into fruitfulness, danger 
 into security, death into life. 
 
 But the results of Bacon's labors are perhaps most apparent in 
 the improvement of the useful arts. 
 
 To classify the phenomena of nature and deduce from them 
 the laws of the universe is to advance but one day's journey 
 beyond the goal which Plato and Aristotle reached. Bacon 
 indulged his imagination in no Utopian visions. He knew that 
 resources undeveloped are as valueless as the gems, which strow 
 the ocean bed ; that the agents of nature, until subjected to the 
 control and pressed into the service of man, are only his terror 
 or his scourge. Hence the high estimation in v\^hich he held the 
 useful arts. Neglected and scorned by the old philosophers, with 
 no temple, with no shrine, the goddess of the useful arts had 
 been driven forth to make her abode with the ignoble and the 
 poor. Bacon was the first to erect a temple to her worship, the 
 first to sacrifice at her altars. And richly has she rewarded the 
 homage. She has yielded to man the keys of knowledge, placed 
 in his hand a sceptre which controls the elements, given him a 
 wand of such magic power, that it tames the wildest agents of 
 nature and makes them his servants. 
 
 Such are the magnificent results which point back to the pro- 
 gression of the Baconian Philosophy. But these are only the 
 first fruits. Who will anticipate the rich harvest that yet remains 
 to be reaped ? That the great founder of Modern Philosophy 
 traced to its source every rivulet which finds its way into the 
 mighty stream which he explored, we by no means affirm. 
 That even Bacon's capacious mind could comprehend the wealth 
 of the mine whicli he opened, we hesitate to believe. His was 
 the energy and the interpidity of the pioneer ; his the success 
 and the glory of the discoverer. Man to the latest generation 
 is to enjoy the fruits of his labor. Had there been no Colum- 
 bus, the tread of Fernando Cortez might have never echoed in 
 the halls of the Montezumas, and the arms of Pizarro might 
 
PRESIDENT SEARS. 17 
 
 have never conquered Peru. Had there been no Bacon, Astron- 
 omy might have had no Newton, Chemistry no Davy. Had 
 there been no Bacon, England might have had no Watt, America 
 no Fulton, the world no Franklin. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 PRESIDENT SEARS. 
 
 [The following article has been taken mainly from Mr. Guild's " History of 
 Brown University," recently published.] 
 
 In the summer of 1865, the late Francis Wayland, after more 
 than twenty-eight years of faithful service, resigned the Presi- 
 dency of Brown University. During his long administration 
 the College had steadily advanced in reputation and usefulness, 
 diffusing more widely from year to year the blessings of educa- 
 tion. His own reputation, which as a teacher and a writer had 
 become almost world-wide, was intimately associated with the 
 reputation of the Institution over which he presided. Upon 
 whom should his mantle fall ? Who could take the College in 
 this most critical period of its histoiy, and conduct its affairs 
 with increased power and efficiency ? One man seemed to stand 
 out before all others, preeminent for his great and varied learn- 
 ing, his lai'ge experience in all matters pertaining to education, 
 and his rare executive ability and tact. To the Rev. Barnas 
 Sears, D. D., the attention of the Corporation seemed almost 
 instinctively to turn, and at a special meeting held on the 21st 
 of August, 1855, he was unanimously elected to the Presi- 
 dency. 
 
 Dr. Sears was born in Sandisfield, Mass., on the 19th of 
 November, 1802. His father, being a farmer in moderate cir- 
 cumstances, gave him such advantages for education as the dis- 
 trict school afforded. Ambitious, however, for further culture, 
 he sought the aid of a friendly clergyman, and in a few months 
 he had mastered the Greek and Latin Grammars, and was fitted 
 for College. In the spring of 1822, he entered the Freshman 
 Class of Brown University, graduating in 1825, at the age of 
 twenty-three. His class numbered forty-eight, being the largest 
 that has ever gone out from the Institution during its entire his- 
 
18 PRESIDENT SEARS. 
 
 tory. The Newton Theological Institution was opened in 
 December of this year, and Dr. Sears entered the Junior Class, 
 terminating his course in 1828. He afterwards became a resi- 
 dent " Licentiate " of the Theological Seminary at Andover. 
 In 1829, he became the Pastor of the First Baptist Church in 
 Hartford, Conn., where he remained two years. At the expira- 
 tion of this time, he accepted an appointment to a Professorship 
 in the Hamilton Literary and Theological Institution, now Mad- 
 ison University, New York. In 1833 he embarked for Europe, 
 and spent several years in study at the Universities of Halle, 
 Bonn, Leipsic and Berlin. While here he laid the foundations 
 for his excellent library, and acquired that taste for the German 
 language and literature which he has since cultivated with such 
 enthusiasm and success. Upon his return to this country he 
 was appointed to a Professorship in the Newton Theological 
 Institution, where he remained twelve years ; during the latter 
 part of this period he was President of the Institution. Upon 
 the resignation of the late Horace Mann, in 1848, he was made 
 Secretary and Executive Agent of the Massachusetts Board of 
 Education. This responsible position he filled with distinguished 
 honor and usefulness for a period of seven years. In these sev- 
 eral situations, all of them connected with the interests of learn- 
 ing and religion, Dr. Sears had become widely known to the 
 public, and especially to the religious denomination to which he 
 is sincerely attached. By his professional labors and published 
 writings he had acquired a wide spread reputation for superior 
 talents and the highest scholarship ; while his persuasive eloquence 
 and genial manners had secured for him in all quarters a host of 
 admiring friends. He was thus preeminently fitted to become 
 the successor of Wayland, and Messer, and Maxcy, and Man- 
 ning. 
 
 Dr. Sears entered upon his duties at the beginning of the 
 fall term. In his reply to the Chancellor of the corporation, 
 who introduced him to the Faculty and Undergraduates, he 
 gracefully struck the key-note of his administration — popular 
 education, and an earnest devotion to the interests of young men. 
 The various changes and improvements made in the University 
 during the twelve years of his connection with it have all been 
 effected with a view of rendering it more generally popular and 
 
PRESIDENT SEARS. 19 
 
 useful, while numberless acts of kindness on his part to the 
 students, and a cordial, unrestrained intercourse with them from 
 day to day, caused him to be truly loved and revered, to be 
 regarded, in the truest sense, as their teacher, counsellor and 
 friend. 
 
 The administration of President Sears extends through the 
 financial crisis of 1857, and the long and terrible war with the 
 South ; nevertheless, during this period the facilities for instruc- 
 tion have been increased ; an elegant and well appointed Labora- 
 tory, for the department of Analytical Chemistry, has been 
 erected at the expense of liberal-minded citizens of Providence ; 
 a system of scholarships has been inaugurated, for the encourage- 
 ment and relief of meritorious students who may need pecuniary 
 aid ; the lot on the corner of George and Prospect streets, for- 
 merly known as the Bowen estate, has been purchased at a cost 
 of ten thousand dollars, and presented to the University by a 
 member of the Corporation ; a debt of twenty-five thousand 
 dollars has been extinguished, and a subscription of one hundred 
 and fifty thousand dollars secured, of which one hundred thou- 
 sand dollars, in addition to thirty-five scholarships, and an aid 
 fund of five thousand dollars, has been paid over to the Treas- 
 urer and added to to the productive investments of the College l 
 the Institution has been brought into harmonious relations with 
 the governments of the city and the State, by liberal concessions 
 on the part of the Corporation, in regard to the chartered rights 
 of the Faculty respecting exemption from taxation ; the United 
 States lands donated to Rhode Island for an Agricultural College, 
 have been given to the University and sold for the sum of fifty 
 thousand dollars, the income of the same to be applied to the 
 teaching of Agriculture and the Mechanic Arts, under the 
 general direction of the General Assembly. The "■ New Sys- 
 tem " introduced by Dr. Wayland has been very much modified. 
 The same opportunities for practical education are oflPered as 
 before, but the three years course for the degree of A. B. has 
 been abandoned, and the prominence heretofore given to the 
 partial course has been diminished. The course of study for 
 academic degrees has therefore returned to its former order and 
 limits. The Bachelor's degree is given, as at other Colleges, at 
 the end of four years of prescribed study ; the Master's degree 
 
20 PRESIDENT SEARS. 
 
 is conferred in course ; while the Baccalaureate in Philosophy is 
 retained as originally prescribed. 
 
 In the spring of 1867, Dr. Sears having been appointed Gen- 
 eral Agent of the Peabody Educational Fund, and having 
 accepted the appointment in view of the preeminence of the 
 claims upon his services thus involved, and especially in view ot 
 his failing health and strength, which rendered a change of life 
 absolutely necessary, resigned the Presidency of the University. 
 His resignation was accepted by the Corporation at a special 
 meeting held on the 17th of April, at which forty-three out of 
 the forty-eight members composing the body were present. 
 Resolutions expressive of their profound sorrow at his leaving 
 and of their gratitude for his watchfulness over the interests of 
 the University, and for the great success which had crowned the 
 labors of his administration, were unanimously adopted. 
 
 Before taking our leave of President Sears, v»^e may be allowed 
 to express the universal regret that is everywhere felt at his 
 resignation. In vacating an office which he has filled Avith such 
 distinguished honor and usefulness for the past twelve years, it 
 is pleasant to record the unanimity with which he has been 
 appointed to his present important position by men of tlie high- 
 est eminence from all parts of the land, and to reflect that while 
 the University, and the community around it, for the time being, 
 lose by this sacrifice, the country at large gains. It is pleasant 
 also to observe the cordial endorsement which this appointment 
 receives from the press. The Boston Transcript^ in illustration, 
 thus happily remarks : — 
 
 Thus by a combination of sagacity and good fortune on the part of those 
 having the management of the Fund, the right man has been found for the 
 right place. Dr. Sears, indeed, unites qualities for the position which, rare in 
 their separate excellence, are rarer still in their harmonious combination. He 
 is a scholar of large accomplishments and vigorous talents, and at the same 
 time a master of the practical methods of education. One of the most inde- 
 fatigable of students, he has none of the bigotry, pedantry and exclusiveness 
 vrhich sometimes accompany exceptional acquirements, but possesses his learn- 
 ing instead of being possessed by it. As Secretary of the Massachusetts 
 Board of Education, he amply proved his capacity to comprehend the wants of 
 the common school system, and as President of Brown University he has 
 shown no less facility in directing the studies of a college. A man of the 
 highest moral and religious character, keen in the perception and resolute in 
 the performance of duty, honest, manly and inti-epid, he is still so dispassion- 
 ate and unostentatious in his conscientiousness, and so simply bent on address- 
 
CUPID STUNG. USURY AND USURY LAWS. 21 
 
 ing the intellect and moral sense of those lie desires to influence, that he never 
 stings their passions into opposition to his teachings, nor rouses their willful- 
 ness to resist the reception of his views. He has, in short, all the reality of 
 force, without any of its arrogance. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 CUPID STUNG. 
 
 rHANSLATBD FROM ANACKEON. 
 
 Once as Cupid, pretty hoy. 
 
 Bright coin of divine alloj'', 
 
 ■On a hed of roses lay, 
 
 Tired of how and arrow play, 
 
 A naughty hee, quite unseen, 
 
 Hid in loaves of red and green. 
 
 Pricked the bahe's rosy finger 
 
 With its dart, sharp and slender. 
 
 Quick he rends the air with shrieks, 
 
 Flutt'ring runs and sobs and weeps. 
 
 Till the god to Venus came. 
 
 Fairest dame in Jov-e's fair train, 
 
 "When he thus in wailing tone, 
 
 Op't his heart with frequent moan; 
 
 O undone 3 I die ! I die ! 
 
 Dear mamma a dragon fly. 
 
 Which a bee the farmers call, 
 
 Winged, and tipped with lancet small. 
 
 Stung me to the very heart, 
 
 O ! dear ma, please cure the smart. 
 
 Venus, smiling, thus replied, 
 
 Cease those tears, you foolish child, 
 
 If a pretty little bee 
 
 So very deep can wound thee. 
 
 Causing Love to shed these tears. 
 
 Waking all these foolish fears, 
 
 Can't you think, what fearful woe. 
 
 He, that's stung by thee, must know ? 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 USURY AND USURY LAWS. 
 
 Usury laws had their origin in a provision of the law ot 
 Moses, by virtue of which the practice of usury or taking 
 interest was prohibited between Jew and Jew. It should, how- 
 
^22 
 
 USURY AND USURY LAWS. 
 
 ever, be observed, that where one of the parties was a foreigner, 
 the Jew might both give and receive interest. The distinction 
 was political rather tlian moral. Its object was simply to bind 
 together by stronger ties the Jewish people. The practice was 
 not regarded as wrong per se, but per legem. The Catholic 
 Church not recognizing this important distinction, condemned 
 the practice m toto as sinful, and denounced its defenders as 
 heretics. To show tiie spirit in which it was regarded, it is only 
 necessary to quote a single passage from Doctor Wilson on this 
 subject: " For my part I will wish some penall lawe of death toe 
 be made against these usurers, as against thieves and murtherers, 
 for that they deserve death much more than such men doe ; for 
 these ursurers destroye and devour up not onlie whole families, 
 but also whole countries, and bring whole folke to beggary that 
 have to doe with them." 
 
 In Greece, to the honor and credit of that country be it said, 
 usury laws never existed. At Rome, on the contrary, the sub- 
 ject was one of frequent legislation, and far too often became the 
 source of sedition and anarchy, through the machinations of 
 noisy, blatant tribunes, ever ready to raise some popular commo- 
 tion. During the Middle Ages, owing principally to two causes^ 
 these laws were extremely popular: First, because according to 
 the canons of the church, the receiving of interest was a crime 
 against the laws of God and man. It is to this cause that Sis- 
 mondi, with good reason, attributes the industrial inferiority of 
 Catholic, as compared with Protestant countries; a condition still 
 existing, though somewhat modified, wherever the Catholic still 
 remains as the established national religion. Secondly, because 
 money lenders as a rule were Jews. It is hardly possible at the 
 present day, to appreciate fully the force of this latter fact. The 
 very name of Jew during this period, was the rallying cry, the 
 watchword for the most severe and unjust persecution. To 
 make them the objects of especial hatred and torment was 
 almost a fundamental doctrine of the Christian church, and the 
 bounden duty of every upright and zealous Christian. Every- 
 where the Jews were subjected to the most ruinous and despotic 
 extortion by government. Thus, King John, whose prodigality 
 and avarice Sir Walter Scott so graphically describes in his 
 "Ivanhoe," demanded at one time of a Bristol Jew, a sum equal 
 
USURY AND USURY LAWS. 23 
 
 to more than one-sixth of the entire revenues of Great Britain; 
 and on the Jew's refusal to comply with a demand so unjust and 
 outrageous, it was ordered that one of his teeth be extracted 
 daily, until he concluded to come to terms. " Christians," says 
 Bentham, " were too intent upon plagueing Jews to listen to the 
 suggestion of doing as Jews did, even though money were to be 
 made by it. Indeed, the easier method and the method pretty 
 much in vogue, was, to let the Jews get the money anyhow they 
 could, and then squeeze it out of them as it was wanted." 
 
 Seemingly sanctioned by the Divine Law, earnestly main- 
 tained by the Church, and acquiring additional prestige by their 
 popularity in classic antiquity and during the Middle Ages, it is 
 not surprising that usury laws have played an important part in 
 modern legislation. To show the spirit of this legislation, it is 
 but necessary to quote a single sentence from an Act passed by 
 the Legislature of Massachusetts in 1641; " It is ordered, decreed, 
 and by this court declared, that no man shall be adjudged 
 for the mere forbearance of any debt, above eight pound in the 
 hundred for one year, and not above that rate proportionably, 
 for all sums whatsoever, bills of exchange alone excepted ; 
 neither shall this be a color or a countenance to allow any usury 
 amongst us contrary to the laws of God." This enlightened 
 Legislature would have saved posterity a vast amount of trouble, 
 had they had the kindness to have made known how they hap- 
 pened to select eight per cent., in preference to twenty or fifteen 
 as the just legal rate of interest ; and where in the Law of God, 
 for which they profess so great a reverence, and upon which 
 they would seem to found their law, they find any such distinc- 
 tions made. 
 
 But by far the most surprising fact connected with this whole 
 subject is that, despite the labors of political economists for the 
 last hundred years, despite the great freedom existing in other 
 matters of commerce and business, usury laws, a relic of igno- 
 rance, persecution and barbarism, still remain as a blot upon so 
 many statute books. If now, after having ascertained the origin 
 and spirit of these laws, we proceed to examine the testimony 
 for and against them, it will be found, if we mistake not, that 
 they are in point of fact, unjust, incompetent, inconsistent, and 
 without any adequate foundation whatsoever. 
 
24 USURY AND USURY LA.WS. 
 
 An important office performed by usury laws, it is claimed, is 
 the protection of the simple. It is urged that, otherwise, they 
 would be liable to imposition from designing men, who, taking 
 advantage of their condition, would demand more than a fair rate 
 of interest. This objection might have some force,' if such laws 
 annihilated simplicity, if they created intelligence. But this they 
 in no way accomplish. They leave simplicity as liable to be duped 
 by the extortioner and speculator from evasions of these laws, as 
 it would be without them. 
 
 It is also further claimed, that these laws protect the indigent. 
 To this it may be answered, that if I wish to hire money, I am 
 a better judge of its true value to me, than any man or set of 
 men possibly can be for me. If it were not for my advantage, 
 I would not borrow. With a few limitations, this rule is of 
 universal application. Let us now look at the action of these 
 laws in the protection of indigence. Suppose that the money 
 market is hard, and I wish to borrow a certain sum to enable me 
 to carry on my business. If, now, I cannot furnish as good 
 security as a second borrower, as a matter of course, I cannot 
 borrow at so low a rate of interest. If, now, the law does not, 
 in consequence of its limitations, allow me to give an additional 
 rate of interest, sufficient to counterbalance his additional secu- 
 rity, I cannot obtain it, however much I may requii'e it to carry 
 on my business profitably, however advantageously I may be 
 able to use it. He grows richer, I poorer, Avith no other consol- 
 ing reflection than that it is all done according to law. Suppose, 
 again, that one of this class has, by his industry and saving, 
 accumulated one hundred dollars, and wishes to loan it. Sup- 
 pose further, that the loanable value of money rises from six per 
 cent., the legal rate, to ten. Watch now the action of this kind 
 protecting law. It either robs him of the additional four per 
 cent., forty per cent, of his right and just due, or if he takes it, 
 the law arraigns him as a criminal. In either case it is unjust 
 and injurious. 
 
 It is often advanced in favor of these laws, that if they were 
 repealed there would be no one to borrow money but imprudent 
 speculators and prodigals, since these would offer higher rates 
 than prudent men would be willing to pay, or could afford to. 
 Go to the money lenders of any community, and ask them which 
 
USURY AND USURY LAWS. 25 
 
 note they Avould prefer, that of the sober, industrious citizen, 
 offering fair or even no securitj'^ at six per cent., or that of the 
 schemer at ten. The reply is evident and conchisive. 
 
 While it is very desirable tliat the rate of interest be low, it 
 should be remembered that this is effected by the increase of 
 capital alone, and not by the enactment of usury laws. 
 
 The desire to protect the borrower rather than the lender, an 
 idea strongly urged in usury laws, is radically unjust. He is no 
 more deserving of the respect and protection of society, than 
 the lender. Indeed, the presumption is rather in favor of the 
 lender, since the very character in which he appears, pre-sup- 
 poses labor, saving, industry and intelligence, all of which should 
 I'eceive every possible just impulse at the hands of society. 
 
 Still further, if we examine the contract whereby one man 
 loans money to another, it will not be found to differ in its nature 
 from other contracts. The lender renders a favor to the borrow- 
 er, and is by right entitled to a just compensation. Now the 
 loanable value of money varies under precisely the same condi- 
 tions as any other commodity. It has its " ups " and " downs " 
 in the commercial world, just like corn, wheat, or cotton. Why 
 then, should not a man be entitled to the advantages resulting 
 from these changes, as well in the one case as in the other. 
 There is nothing in the nature of things why this should not be 
 the case. For the law, therefore, to interfere and prescribe in 
 this matter, is a violation of the freedom of contracts, as unjust 
 and as flagrant as it would be for it to step in and fix the price 
 of brogans, while the price of balmorals was left to regulate 
 itself in the natural way. 
 
 In point of fact, these laws are a serious evil both to borrower 
 and lender. The latter, in the case of a rise above the legal 
 rate, they force to take less than his just due, or compel him to 
 seek the full amount at the expense of violating a legal enact- 
 ment and subjecting himself to whatever consequences may flow 
 from it. The former they either drive from the market alto- 
 gether, or compel him to seek a loan at the hands of sharpers 
 and through circuitous methods, enhancing the rate. 
 
 We have already seen that tliese laws are incompetent, unjust 
 and groundless. Furthermore, they are inconsistent. This 
 appears from the fact, that in bottomry loans they allow the rate 
 
26 COLLEGE MUSIC. 
 
 of interest to be determined by the parties interested. But 
 these loans do not, in their nature, differ from other kinds of 
 loans. If, therefore, it is just in the one case, it is in the other 
 also, and should be allowed accordinglj. 
 
 Another important fact to be observed in this connection, is, 
 that wherever these laws have been most severe and oppressive, 
 there the rate of interest has been highest. In Greece, where 
 there was no legal interference, money could be procured on the 
 most hazardous voyages at a rate far below that paid by the 
 farmers of Cyprus in the days of Cicero. So too in Constan- 
 tinople, where the taking of interest is wholly forbidden, the 
 customary rate of interest is thirty per cent. 
 
 But a far more serious objection to these laws is, that where 
 stringent, they have a strong tendency to demoralize the busi- 
 ness community. Habituated to the violation of unjust provis- 
 ions of the statute, men soon lose much of their respect for 
 those of a just character. This probably explains, in some degree, 
 the cause of so much commercial trickery. But be this as it 
 may, the general moral effect can be no other than pernicious. 
 
 Such appears to us to be the general character and effect of 
 usury laws. Into their foundation and composition neither 
 reason, justice nor right enters or has a place. Everywhere 
 they have proved partial, unjust, inconsistent and incompetent, 
 and, in view of these facts, we hope the day is not far distantj 
 when they shall be numbered among the things that were. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 COLLEGE MUSIC. 
 
 "Minuentur atrae carmine curas." — Hor. IV: 2. 
 
 " Do you sing the 'MacGregors' gathering' ?" asked a gradu- 
 ate of '32, the other night as we stood around the piano, singing 
 " College Songs." 
 
 " No, sir," said I. 
 
 " ' Drink to me only with thine eyes ' ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Ah ! those songs are out of date, I suppose. We used to 
 sing them when I was in college, and we still have them over at 
 
COLLEGE MUSIC. 27 
 
 every commencement." The old gentleman lighted up with 
 quite a glow, as he spoke of these charming reminders of his 
 youth ; and his enthusiasm set me to wondering if hearing the 
 college songs we have at Brown, would awaken any very lofty 
 enthusiasm in my breast thirty or forty years hence. Would 
 these pathetic lines, for instance, kindle a spark sufficient to hght 
 the train of sweet associations which links the present with the 
 past? 
 
 The bull-dog on the bank, and the bull-frog in the pool — 
 The bull- dog on the bank, and the bull-frog in the pool — 
 The bull-dog on the bank, and the bull-frog in the pool; 
 The bull-dog called the bull-frog a darn cold water fool. 
 
 Or this sweet refrain ? 
 
 Though I vowed I never would leave her, 
 She turned out a cruel deceiver. 
 Rum tee turn tootle turn. 
 Rum tee turn tootle turn. 
 Rum tee turn tootle di day. 
 
 What sort of a figure would " Balm o' Gilead" make, seen 
 through the hallowing mist of years ? How would the pleasant 
 facts " that her father's name was Moses," " her cheeks were red 
 as roses," and " her shoes were out at the toeses," appear, 
 among the lights and shadows of College days ? And what sort 
 of opinion would a company form of the musical taste of stu- 
 dents in 186-, when such songs were their only representative 
 music. 
 
 "It is an unfortunate fact," says a writer in the Harvard 
 Advocate^ " that there are very few real and distinctive College 
 songs in existence in this country." And it does seem rather 
 hard to dignify such a promiscuous collection as we now have, 
 by the name of student songs. There are quantities of them, 
 however, as the two Harvard song books, the Carmina Yalensia, 
 the New York University song book, the songs of WiUiams, and 
 Dartmouth, and Hamilton, and a host of others (but no Brown 
 songs,) testify ; and as any one can ascertain by going out to the 
 chapel steps, most any pleasant September evening. 
 , A few German student songs form the nucleus of the collec- 
 tion, and some of the best English ones have been added from 
 time to time. The music of the latter has been forcibly 
 
28 COLLEGE MUSIC. 
 
 I 
 
 divorced, in many cases, from the words to which it originally 
 belonged, and wedded to the "immortal verse" of poetical 
 students. Thus "Fair Harvard," the rallying song of Harvard 
 College, drew tears from the eyes of noble dinner-parties thirty 
 years ago, under the name of " Believe, me if all those endear- 
 ing young charms," sung by its author, Tom Moore. " Alma 
 Mater," the great Yale song, is " Benny Havens " in female 
 apparel, and the classic " Lauriger " is sung to an American air, 
 whose baptismal cognomen was "Maryland, my Maryland." 
 " Rolling home " is adapted to Weber's " O dolce concento." 
 
 Taken altogether these are few in number, and with them 
 ends the list of the respectabilities of the college song-books. 
 The rest are popular minstrel melodies, and comic songs of all 
 sorts, which the student taste has rescued from the speed}' 
 oblivion which has overtaken their contemporaries in the popular 
 favor. These are the interesting part of the repertoire, dis- 
 reputable as they undoubtedly are when judged by a correct 
 musical and poetical standard. 
 
 M. Le Brun describes a modern song; as " either a soft and 
 amorous, or brisk and Bacchic thought." These songs all come 
 under the latter class. The worn-out old German choruses 
 which have rejoiced the entering Freshman and saddened the 
 departing Senior from time immemorial, are generally Bacchic, 
 if not all brisk, and the disreputables of later date exhibit an 
 exceeding briskness which is too often their only merit. There 
 is not much besides briskness in such as the following, for 
 instance : 
 
 Four and tw^enty men-e-en, 
 I'our and twenty men ; 
 Four and twenty great tig men 
 Rolling down the Bowling Green. 
 » Chorus — Steady on your long tail blue-ue-ue, 
 
 ! steady on your long tail blue, 
 I'll dress myself so neat and clean, 
 To meet my Johnny on the Bowling Green. 
 
 Some of the minstrel songs, however, add to the resistless dash 
 of the measure, a very sweet, often pathetic melody, and fre- 
 quently pretty words. " Ring the Banjo," " Kitty Wells," 
 " Jingle Bells," and " Jim Crack Corn " have an untutored 
 pathos which finds an echo in all true musical souls. 
 
COLLEGE MUSIC. 29 
 
 But the most popular class of songs, after all, is the one we 
 get from the comic singer of the music hall. Here we have, in 
 addition to a lively, pleasing air and a telling chorus, a narra- 
 tion, in brief, of some affecting story, in which the hero and 
 heroine, instead of being cavaliers and grandes dames — trouba- 
 dours and princesses, as of yore, are fishmonger girls and chai'coal 
 cartmen — artful grocers and the chief engineers of peanut stands 
 — costermongers and stage-drivers, — and the fastidious tastes of 
 college men, seem, mirabile dlctu,to incline, like King Cophetua, 
 to the beggar maid rather than the high-born dame. 
 
 Which of us cannot drop an imaginary tear over the pathetic 
 story of " Mary Jane and the Charcoal Cart," and then enjoy 
 roaring the goodly chorus ? Who is not willing to transform 
 himself for a few moments into a vagrant, in order to declare to 
 the world that he is " A rambling rake," etc. ? How delightful 
 it is to ride occasionally, in fancy, in " George Henry's 'bus," 
 with a " rip up and a skip up," etc. How melancholy is the 
 story of the grocer, " Charles Augustus," and how touching the 
 particulars about that " little grocery store" ? With what a zest 
 can one " too ri loo ri " and so on over the unfortunate Hamlet ? 
 And how delightful to share the luxury of woe caused by the 
 cruelties inflicted on " my son Johnny "? And that anomalous 
 importation from Brooklyn, with what a grand old "tra la la" 
 it ends all that puerile twaddle about " the bull-dog on the bank 
 and the bull-frog in the pool " ? 
 
 Among the songs which unite the brisk and Bacchic qualities, 
 may be found some of the prime favorites. The lively " It's a 
 way we have at old Brown, boys," is by no means prohibitory 
 in its tendency, especially in thac verse which describes the 
 journey to Seekonk and the return therefrom. And that strictly 
 local lyric which accuses the president of Brown of being, ex- 
 officio, fond of malt liquor, and throws mud on the character of 
 each of the professors successively, would be put down as anti- 
 temperance, even without the exceedingly vinous chorus, 
 " Drink him down."* 
 
 Soft and amorous songs find no market among American stu- 
 dents. If one does perchance get well rooted in college, it soon 
 
 *That Greek ode in wliioli tlie hero asks the way round to "What Cheer, is not included in 
 the Bacchic class, as he may want oysters. 
 
30 
 
 COLLEGE MUSIC. 
 
 sprouts forth into some grotesque deformity. The " Maid of 
 Athens " is now sung with its original beautiful words, but in 
 what a form ! Lord Byron, it will be remembered, addressed 
 this charming lyric to Teresa Makri, the lovely Athenian girl, 
 who had conquered the heart for which the proudest dames of 
 Europe had contended. This is the way it is sung. The tune 
 is indescribable. 
 
 Maid of Athens ! Maid of Athens ! 
 
 Maid of Athens ! Athens ! Athens ! 
 
 Ere we part, part, part, part, part, part, part; 
 
 Give me back. Give me back my heart. 
 
 If departed spirits can reanimate their fleshly cerements, the 
 unfortunate Byron must have turned over in his grave when he 
 heard that version of his most beautiful love sono;. 
 
 Poor Stephen C. Foster, that sweet singer, died soon after the 
 following arrangement of one of his finest productions was 
 introduced : 
 
 Vivace — Nelly was a lady ; last night she died ; 
 
 (Hollered), SHE DID. 
 Toll the bell for lovely Nell, my dark Virginia bride. 
 (Do. louder, SHE WAS. 
 
 These are all very amusing and funny, and we can enjoy a 
 good " howl " made of these materials, better than any other. 
 To stretch one's lungs on the chorus of " Balm o' Gilead," or 
 "Long Tail Blue," is as refreshing as a three mile walk just 
 after sunrise ; but we cannot disguise the fact, that the general 
 run of our college songs has deteriorated considerably in late 
 years, and that our songs, though jolly and pleasing to singers 
 and hearers, are not quite in keeping with the classic dignity of 
 our studies and surroundings, and though very appropriate when 
 we " meet 'neath the sounding rafter," are hardly the represen- 
 tative of our musical tastes which we should choose. 
 
 The wav to change this state of things is so obvious that it 
 seems strange we have not before adopted it. We must have a 
 living and working society to cultivate good music. One which 
 shall take the lead in musical matters, and not only keep together 
 and increase the collection of rollicking choruses, which is so 
 indispensable to the enjoyment of a promiscuous company of 
 students, but shall study and perform the productions of the 
 
COLLEGE DISCIPLINE. 31 
 
 German masters, and the better class of American songs. We 
 can prophecy, with some certainty, that this great want will be 
 met before long, and there ought to be no doubt that the college 
 will assist such an enterprise with its most cordial encouragement. 
 It is societies of this kind which dignify the students leisure hours, 
 and make his very pleasures a source of improvement. And it 
 is only societies of kindred nature to this, which are needed to 
 raise Brown to a position in manly sports and refining pursuits, 
 as lofty as that she has always held in the acme of collegiate 
 virtues — learning. 
 
 When a chorus of Brown students can render well the songs 
 of Kiicken, Abt, Schubert and Balfe, and such American songs 
 as " Stars of the Summer Night," " Fairy Moonlight," the 
 "Watcher" and others, we shall have reached a much more 
 creditable standard than we now possess, and can produce col- 
 lege music which will be a credit to our institution, and an 
 improvement to every one of her students. 
 
 At the same time we must have the Brisk Jingles for the 
 " crowd " to sing, and when we shall have attained to some of 
 the loftier productions to relieve their rather undignified efiPect, 
 we can truly say of these old ditties which have enlivened so 
 many good times : 
 
 " Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 COLLEGE DISCIPLINE. 
 
 It is our purpose to present a plain statement of our experi- 
 ence and thoughts upon the subject of collegiate discipline. 
 Perhaps our friends may be as much interested as they would 
 be in a more elaborate, professional disquisition upon the same 
 theme, just as they have often during the war, laid aside the 
 official report for the unpretending sheet that contained the 
 experience of the humble private. 
 
 College discipline is usually made to refer to moral culture, 
 and we propose to consider it, first, in this more limited sense. 
 The principle is gaining very general recognition at the present 
 day, that the system of discipline adopted in our colleges should, 
 
32 COLLEGE DISCIPLINE. 
 
 abandoning trivial rules and petty requirements, strict espionage 
 and watchful distrust, aim at calling forth the native manliness 
 of the student, at the development of the finer sensibilities and 
 the higher motives of his nature, and at calling into constant 
 exercise his sense of honor. 
 
 Such a system of government is perfectly adapted to the 
 present condition of American colleges. Their present stage of 
 culture demands it. The old laws, forbidding boys to play mar- 
 bles on the steps of the University buildings in Cambridge, 
 (England,) became, of course, dead letters when the standard 
 of scholarship was raised, and an older class of students fre- 
 quented the college halls. So with the regulations in the Uni- 
 versity of Virginia, proscribing boots, because they were some- 
 times made vehicles by which a shoemaker could convey liquor 
 to the students. The higher requirements of our institutions, 
 and the advanced age of those who enter them, call for a system 
 of discipline somewhat different from that which has marked 
 former periods of collegiate history. If the student is ever to 
 be recognized as a man, he surely may claim that right at the 
 present day. But we are not prepared to admit that even boys 
 should be subjected to such rigorous training as characterizes 
 many of our academies and colleges. For the true principle of 
 moral, as well as mental education is to lead out (educere,) the 
 nobler feelings and motives of our being. Southey tells us that 
 Nelson, when a boy, was deeply impressed by his father's telling 
 him, "I trust it to your honor.'''' That principle of honor was 
 the key-note of his career ; struck in boyhood, its latest vibra- 
 tion was at Trafalgar, " England expects every man to do his 
 duty." Another element of the adaptation referred to, is the 
 fact that such a system of discipline is in harmony with our 
 democratic principles of self-government. The character of 
 any age is stamped upon all the institutions of that age. The 
 Grecian system is not suited to our wants, nor do we look for 
 the solution of our problem to the ascetic training of the monas- 
 tery — the college of Luther's day. The American student 
 should be made to feel that the main work of government and 
 discipline rests in his own hands, and that in the experience of 
 college-life, he is calling into exercjse those principles which will 
 fit him for the proper discharge of his duties as a citizen. It is 
 
COLLEGE DISCIPLINE. 
 
 33 
 
 not strange that our own Rhode Island University takes the 
 foremost rank among American colleges in the advocacy of 
 these principles ; nor is it unjust to attribute much of the vigor- 
 ous life and healthful activit}^ with which she enters upon a new 
 era in her history, to that bracing atmosphere of political and 
 religious freedom which has surrounded her during the first 
 century of her existence. 
 
 Not only is this system adapted to the present wants of Ameri- 
 can Colleo;es, but it also exei'ts a most beneficial influence on the 
 student. Recognizing him as a man, it develops manliness oi 
 deportment and character : it leads him to respect himself. Says 
 a well known writer : " He who is unjust to himself, or less than 
 just, breaks a law, as well as he who hurts his neighbor." Self- 
 respect is accompanied by self-reliance, w^hich in turn insures 
 the presence of that self-control which is the " secret of all other 
 control." None will deny that the possession of all these quali- 
 ties is indispensable to success in the world. One in whose char- 
 acter they have been studiously repressed during four years, is 
 certainly not fitted to grapple with the realities of life ; nor is he 
 a model architect who supports his structure by a scaffolding, 
 the removal of which renders inevitable the fall of the edifice. 
 
 The system advocated favors, too, that intellectual culture 
 which is the primary aim of all collegiate training. It does this, 
 partly, by promoting mutual confidence betAveen the teacher and 
 the student, than which nothing can influence more the amount 
 of instruction received, or of pleasure attending the process of 
 imparting it. It accomplishes this, also, by its tendency to keep 
 the object of college life distinctly before the mind of the stu- 
 dent. The inestimable value of his privileges, concealed before 
 in the dimness of his appreciation of life's realities, becomes more 
 apparent to him. He looks upon college life as invested, not 
 with the romance of an ideal existence, but with the intense 
 earnestness of real life. He feels moral and intellectual obliga- 
 tions resting upon him, and stands more firmly by reason of 
 their weight. Such views on the part of the student not only 
 enable him to make a better improvement of his advantages, but 
 also tend to raise the intellectual tone of a college ; for, as we 
 fulfill more perfectly the requirements made of us, we erect a 
 higher standard for ourselves. Indirectly, then, our system tends 
 
34 COLLEGD DISCIPLINE. 
 
 towards that higher grade of intellectual culture in Academies 
 and Colleges which is felt universall}' to be the greatest need of 
 American Institutions of learning. 
 
 We have thus far considered our subject in a limited sense ; 
 in its widest meaning it includes the syynmetrical development of 
 all the parts of man's nature. It is a fatal error that college 
 authorities have simply to educate the intellectual powers. We 
 condemn the folly of placing a powerful engine, perfect in all its 
 appointments, in a battered vessel, which would fall to pieces, if 
 the full moving power were applied. Yet many young men go 
 forth yearly from academic halls, whose brilliant mental energies 
 are restrained by a shattered physical frame, that would find 
 speedy dissolution, were the intellectual faculties employed with- 
 out reserve. The importance of intellectual culture in our 
 colleges is not often underrated, though in some cases its true 
 aim may be lost sight of. The amount of actual information 
 derived from a college course should be kept subordinate to the 
 attainment of the ability to concentrate the energies of the mind 
 upon any subject which may require their attention, — an end 
 which, it is generally conceded, is best gained by thorough drill 
 upon a few studies. Moral culture stands even higher in the 
 scale of importance than mental. A writer has well said : " If 
 we increase intellectual power without corresponding increase of 
 moral and restraining power, we produce mischief, instead of 
 good." The symmetry, then, so essential an element of perfec- 
 tion in Nature and in art, should not be ignored in the develop- 
 ment of human energies. Neither the physical, nor the intel- 
 lectual, nor the spiritual element of man's nature cam be neglect- 
 ed without injury to the unity, the beauty, the usefulness and 
 the strength of the whole. Every college which loses sight of 
 this fundamental principle of all culture, as well as every student 
 who neglects to act upon it, will surely be, as was the Roman 
 artist to whom Horace alludes, 
 
 " Infelix operis summa, quia ponere totum 
 Nesciet. — " 
 
 -oQo- 
 
 A Professorship of Anglo-Saxon is to be estabhshed in Cam- 
 bridge, England. 
 
INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTEK. 35 
 
 INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 Cliaracter is the sum of those quaUties which distinguish one 
 object from another ; in respect to man, it is the estimate that is 
 put upon his actions. These actions spring directly from the 
 mind, and are an unerring indication of its very nature. What 
 those elements of the mind are which govern these actions, 
 whether the emotions, the intellect, the conscience, or the three 
 combined, we do not purpose to determine. It is sufficient to 
 know that every person is endowed by his Creator with those 
 faculties which are designed to direct his course in life. Inde- 
 pendence leads a man to rely upon this power ; in place of look- 
 ing without for a guide, he rather looks within, and, conscious of 
 his own dignity and povver, he malves his own judgment the cri- 
 terion of all his actions. 
 
 Yet plain and simple as this may be, we see violations of it 
 constantly, and in the midst of party strife which now rages 
 with so much excitement, in the midst of the present demands 
 of society and of fashion, we rarely meet with a man who will 
 tenaciously cling to his own convictions of riglit. Some, filled 
 with a desire to please rather than to benefit, forgetting that 
 they have any reasoning faculties of their own, agree with every 
 person with whom they meet, without even stopping to find a 
 single reason in defence of the opinion to which they so readily 
 assent. They take no part in the formation of society, having 
 neither any definite plan of their own, nor any stamina to sup- 
 port the opinions of others. They are like the chameleon, the 
 color of whose skin always conforms to the object upon which it 
 happens to be found. But little or no better are they, who, 
 falsely thinking that the best way to succeed in life is to gain 
 the support and attention of their superiors, lower their own 
 dignity, and secure the disgust of those very persons whose 
 respect they so earnestly covet. They are not contented to 
 begin at the foot of the hill, and, relying upon their own resour- 
 ces, work their way till they come up abreast of those who at 
 first were in advance of them. Acting the part of one described 
 by Horace, they will greet their superiors with, " how do you 
 do my dearest fellow," and declaring that " they have nothing 
 
36 INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 to do and are not lazj," will follow their supposed friend till 
 accident or fortune comes to the rescue. 
 
 There is another class, perhaps having as little manly charac- 
 ter as any, who are pleased with nothing so much as to know 
 that thej' can fit themselves to the fashions and can conform to 
 the requirements of society, forgetting that society was made for 
 man, and not man for society. They would be more troubled 
 and disgusted with themselves to appear in public with the 
 fashions of the past season, than to be discharged by their 
 employers on account of inability or inattention to business. 
 They can see no merit in any one who does not dress according 
 to the latest style, neither can any one see any merit in them 
 except as animated fashion plates. 
 
 Another class that shows a want of independence, includes 
 those, who, in all the leading questions of the age, are governed 
 by the opinion of others. The political contests of the day 
 reveal a large number of this class. Not having had the expe- 
 rience in the world that many have had, they readily believe 
 what their political leaders may say, as though they were infalli- 
 ble, and never dare to express an opinion of their own, which is 
 not sanctioned by the paper which they pati'onize. The same 
 principle may also be seen in nearly every association or society, 
 since in almost all bodies, of whatever nature, there are a few 
 who control and give shape to the opinions of the many. They 
 will each persistently maintain that they are independent and 
 follow their own convictions of right, yet in reality they are 
 governed very much as one " riding in his coach may be said to 
 follow his horses, when his neighbor by his side holds the reins." 
 
 But in pleasing contrast to those who foolishly pervert the 
 noblest gift of their Creator, we find those of an independent 
 character, who, conscious of their individuality, adhere to their 
 own judgment, and in place of looking to others and yielding to 
 their opinion, look wnthin and dare to follow their own convic- 
 tions. Such a one will rise above the mists and errors of public 
 opinion formed to a great extent by excitement, and will receive, 
 as he deserves to receive, the respect of his fellow-men. " If a 
 broken world falls upon him the ruins will strike him unterrified." 
 Independence of character will develop and strengthen the mind. 
 The vine which constantly clings to some support and directs its 
 
INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER. 37 
 
 growth only where this may be found, can never be strong of 
 itself, nor reach a higher point than the support upon which it 
 leans. So the person who is governed by public opinion or con- 
 stantly yields to the advice or judgment of his associates, who 
 looks to others and not within, can never possess any strength of 
 character or rise to a higher level than the model which he may 
 adopt. The student who can rise above the flattery of present 
 popularity gained by a " high stand " in his class, and can look 
 upon his studies as the means to fit him for the duties of life, 
 has already gained one great object in self-culture. Conscious 
 of Jiis own weakness and of the work which he will be called 
 upon to perform in life, he will have a stimulus to study, not for 
 the sake of making a good recitation, but for the sake of a 
 thorough knowledge of his subject. 
 
 An independent course, formed by following one's own con- 
 victions, is the only safe Course. Man is unconsciously selfish. 
 That which is best for my friend, may not be the best for me. 
 Since his motives and aims in life cannot in all respects be the 
 same as mine, he can never look upon all of my aflTairs from the 
 same position as that from which I view them. Public opinion 
 can never be taken as the correct guide, unless you destroy the 
 individuality of man. Strict conformity to the latest fashions 
 mav become those who live for the sake of " being; looked at." 
 But what principle is there which compels all to conform to the 
 present style of hats, when the hatter changes the fashion twice 
 a year ; not for the sake of benefitting the purchaser, but for the 
 sake of having moi'e business for himself, and so of increasing 
 his own wealth. Thus, if we consent to be governed by others, 
 we foolishly give of our substance to cater to their wants. But 
 the man of independent character, daring to cut loose from 
 present popularity, which has justly been called the "echo of 
 folly and shadow of renown," will find when all is dark without, 
 a safe light within to illuminate his course. One's own convic- 
 tions, formed in accordance with an honest judgment and an 
 enlightened conscience, will always be true to his best interests. 
 Again, the demand of the age is for men of independent 
 character. All great eras of progress in the history of the 
 world have been marked by men of this stamp, or rather, we 
 may say, that they have made these eras of progress. It enabled 
 
38 INDEPENDENCE OF CHARACTER. 
 
 a Luther to break loose from the long established customs and 
 corrupt formalism of the dark ages, and in the face of an opposing 
 world and the anathemas of the Church, to proclaim and defend 
 the truth. The greatest benefactors of the world have been 
 men of independent character, and we may well infer, reasoning 
 from analogy, that such will be their character in the future. 
 
 There is no want of men to lead, if others will follow ; yet 
 we find that these very men who so earnestly advocate their 
 views, seldom do it for the sake of truth or humanity, but for 
 their own selfish interests. If we are ready to accept the theory 
 of any one as true, without examining for ourselves, we are 
 liable to sustain, not a noble principle, but the interests of a 
 party. Dishonest men are found among the teachers of morals, 
 in the marts of trade and among the rulers of the country ; men 
 of different opinions and conflicting views appear among the 
 clergy ; quacks are found in the medical profession. Every- 
 where men are found ready to wear any mask, to assume any 
 disguise, for the sake of attaining their own interests. The man 
 who thinks for himself must differ from many of the opinions 
 now entertained; and he who conscientiously adheres to his 
 opinion in his actions, will come in conflict with others. 
 
 It is by no means implied that the man of independent char- 
 acter will always differ from others ; he may agree with nearly 
 all with whom he meets, and conform to public opinion. But it 
 does lead one to examine for himself, and have a satisfactory 
 reason for his course. If there is an agreement in thought and 
 in action between himself and others, it is not because he will 
 conform to them, but they to him. If he be honest with him- 
 self, he will value his own convictions of right above the opinion 
 of his companions, and will covet more earnestly the approbation 
 of his conscience, than the applause of the world. When once 
 he is convinced of the right, he will dare defend it ; and if he is 
 moved from his purpose it will be by appeals to his reason, and 
 not by threats or bribes. To him the honest inquirer after truth 
 will look, his friendship will bo valued, his advice sought and his 
 opinion respected. Public opinion, formed to a great extent by 
 ambitious and selfish men, will as little disturb him, as the gentle 
 ripples or the angry billows of the mighty deep will disturb the 
 everlasting rocks. 
 
COLLEGIANA. 39 
 
 >i3lfogiaiiit-< 
 
 [Lack of space prevents the insertion of many items under this head. In future, with more 
 room and a greater numher of exchanges, we may make the " Collegiana " more interesting.] 
 
 HARVARD. The Loat race with. Oxford is expected to take place next Sep- 
 tember, if at all. Oxford refuses to row without a coxswain. The London 
 correspondent of the New York Tribune, says : 
 
 ' ' Harvard and Yale have much to learn before they can meet an English crew on the Thames 
 on even terms, and I for one hope they will pursue their education at home rather than here. 
 If they would send one or two good men over here to look on, they might learn enough to 
 reward them for the voyage, hut they will pay dearly for the lesson if they prefer to take it 
 by means of a public defeat that will be sure to be disgraceful." 
 
 YALE. The Yale Navj', in a recent meeting, formally disclaimed any respon- 
 sibility on the part of the students as a body, for the disgraceful proceedings 
 at the last regetta in Worcester. 
 
 DARTMOUTH. Washington's birth-day was celebrated by public speeches 
 from three members of each class. An Agricultural School and a School of 
 Architecture and Civil Engineering are soon to be opened. 
 
 WILLIAMS. The Williams Quarterly is one of the best college magazines we' 
 have seen. It is published by the Senior class, and contains from eighty to 
 one hundred pages of good reading matter. The Philologian Society has chal- 
 lenged the Linonians of Yale to a prize debate. A new regulation has just 
 been adopted whereby all students who are absent without excuse at the begin- 
 ning of the term, are fined fifty cents for each day's absence. Williams stands 
 upon its dignity as champion college in base ball, and demands that other col- 
 leges wishing to play for the ball shall come there. Williams' alumni associa- 
 tions have been formed in Boston, New York City, Northern New York, 
 (Troy,) and Chicago. 
 
 UNION. The Unio7t College Magazine contains an article on the "Conflict 
 of Modern Thought," by our quondam fellow-student, E. A. Kingsley, who 
 also took the first Sophomore prize in oratory, at the prize exhibition at Com- 
 mencement. 
 
 BOW DO IN has one of the rarest and most valuable collections of paintings 
 in the country. Vandyke, Hogarth, and Rubens are well represented. 
 
 HAM I LTON is erecting a new library building and President's mansion. The 
 " Campus" is defunct. H. R. Waite, '67, is compiling a new book of College 
 Songs, to which twenty-one Colleges contribute. Brown is rather poorly 
 represented. The book is expected to appear soon, and will doubtless be a 
 valuable addition to our College music. 
 
 AMHERST. The " Student" a new fortnightly paper, published by the class 
 of '69, is a welcome exchange. We glean much College news from its columns. 
 
40 
 
 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 Amherst has great expectations of new buildings, a library, dormitorj'-, etc 
 The Student laments the unsuccessful efforts of the College choir, " small in 
 number, but great in resolution, striving to contend against the drawling bass 
 of the assembled multitude." The new Beethoven Society, with new books 
 and an able instructor, is expected to mend the matter. We sympathize with 
 the description of the Chapel singing, and wish the " Beethoven " better suc- 
 cess than our still-born " Arion." All the sufferers in the late hazing affray 
 at the Agricultural College are recovering. We respectfully recommend the 
 following decision of the Alexandria Society to our Corporation : — " Resolved, 
 That Trustees of Colleges should provide billiard tables for students, as well as 
 a Gymnasiiim." 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN. The catalogue of this young and flourishing 
 institution shows the Faculty to number 35, and the students 1141, of whom 
 279 are in the full Academic Department. Its College publications evince a 
 laudable enterprise. These are four, — the "University Magazine,'' a monthly of 
 forty or fifty pages, published by the Seniors, — the " University Chronicle^' a 
 weekljr paper, by the Juniors, — the " Oracle,"' a yearly paper, by the Sophs, — 
 and the " Castalia," a yearly magazine, by the Independents, or furious enemies 
 of the Secret Societies. From the last we gain the following items concerning 
 Brown, which are certainly independent — of facts : " The University Buildings 
 are seven in number. University Hall, Hope College, President's Mansion, 
 Laboratory, Manning Hall, Chapel, and Historical Rooms." We would suggest 
 the addition of the Library, the Halls of the Philermenian and United Brothers, 
 R. I. Hall, the University Grammar School, First Baptist Meeting House, and 
 Mr. Taft's Hot -house. We quote again : " The Brunonian is published by an 
 organization called the Gamma Nu. * * * * The examinations for admis- 
 sion are biennial." The Students' Lecture Association have contracted for 
 sixteen lectures this season. The University has lately denied admission to 
 ladies. A contemporary siys its laws are two, viz. : 1. No student shall 
 burn the College buildings. 2. No student shall on any consideration, kill 
 any member of the Faculty. 
 
 MADISON has appointed to the Professorship of Latin and Modern Lan- 
 guages, Edward Judson, A. B., Brown, '65. 
 
 VASSAR must now be ranked as literally a sister institution, not only in the 
 similar spirit and method of its studies, but in the enterprise and energy of 
 its students. This is shown best in the college paper, the "Transcript," an 
 elegant little production of eight pages ; full of interest, not only in itself, 
 but in its revelations of what has been done in a short time towards the estab- 
 lishment or adoption of those peculiar institutions, which among us have been 
 the growth of many years. The Transcript records the existence of four class 
 organizations complete, a musical society, a literary society of three chapters, 
 a base ball club, and ten boat clubs ! The prospect of competing with such rivals 
 for the championship of America, should rouse our boat and base ball clubs to 
 renewed efforts. With true feminine delicacy of taste, Vassar has chosen rose 
 and silver gray for its colors. The Transcript has an unusual amount of good 
 poetry, and one of its prose articles completely annihilates a poor Dartmouth 
 " Philander," who dared to write to a college paper a description of a visit to 
 Vassar. 
 
roi. I. 
 
 JXJW33, 1868. 
 
 JfO. S. 
 
 GEORGE R. CHASE, 
 
 ALVIN M. CRANE, 
 
 EDITOKS POE, 68. 
 
 JOHN M. DAGGETT, 
 
 EDITOES FOR '69. 
 
 DURA p. MORGAN, 
 
 WILLIAM C. POLAND. 
 
 PRESTON D, JONES. 
 
 MIRABEAU. 
 
 It is the prerogative of revolutions to produce great and won- 
 derful men ; men who, during a calm, would have passed along 
 unhonored and unsung ; men whose genius might have slept, 
 whose actions might have mino-led unseen with the doings of 
 the multitude, had they not been roused from their slumbers by 
 the noisy car of revolution. This wakens them to new life, and 
 they rush forth and act their part with an energy and success 
 which excite the Avonder and admiration of mankind. 
 
 Among those whose powers have been called into action by 
 revolution, stands Mirabeau, who appeared, not slowly and 
 gradually, like a star in the distance, but burst forth meteor- 
 like, and became at once the ruling spirit of the French Revolu- 
 tion. So brilliant were his efforts and so burning was his elo- 
 quence, that all, as they witnessed them, stood amazed, and he 
 carried that by storm and surprise, which he could never have 
 overcome by reason alone. 
 
 But while we acknowledge the talents and power of Mirabeau, 
 while we admire his signal displays of genius and of eloquence, 
 we discern in him those qualities which give rise to far different 
 emotions, — vice armed with the authority of genius, passions 
 
82 MIRABEAU. 
 
 unbalanced by reason, ambition inciting to a love of power, 
 regardless of the means by which it may be gained ; these we 
 must acknowledge to exist, and these we must refuse to admire 
 in the character of Mirabeau. What he miglit have been with- 
 out his passions and unjust aspirations, we have no means of 
 judging ; but with them, he was feared and distrusted by all of 
 his own time, and his character descends to us as one of doubt- 
 ful cast, giving rise to mingled emotions of praise and censure, 
 of admiration and contempt. 
 
 But we turn from a survey of his passions and impulses, to 
 view him as the leader of the revolution in France. He may 
 deserve some praise for the part he acted in that dread drama ; 
 yet when we sift his character, we find none of the attributes 
 which are essential to the champion of revolution. Reason, cal- 
 culation and prudence were wanting in him. His information 
 was not extensive, and he ever contemned and ridiculed the 
 teachings of experience as a hinderance to the progress of right. 
 Wanting such qualities, and entertaining such opinions, how 
 could he be expected to lead in the cause of revolution with 
 wisdom and success. They greatly mistake the spirit and 
 nature of revolution, who suppose that its true elements are 
 confusion and highly wrought excitement. Nor are they guilty 
 of a lesser error, who deem one qualified to guide the populace 
 at such times, merely because his mind and character are suited 
 to augment this confusion, and to feed this excitement. Such 
 was Mirabeau. He could stir the passions, but could not control 
 them. He could raise the storm, but could not direct its force. 
 It has become the fashion of the times to praise Mirabeau and 
 such as he, because of their real or fancied alliance with the 
 cause of freedom and of humanity. Yet no good can result 
 from this. It is after all, but the flattery of lawless ambition 
 and of unbridled passion. Let us then abate our admiration for 
 Mirabeau. Let us consider him as the child of passion and the 
 subject to ambition, rather than as the man of reason and the 
 friend of humanity. 
 
 -oQo- 
 
 Ambition sets one's life forward into the uncertain future ; 
 contentment makes him live in the present. 
 
A TRIP UP LAKE GEORGE. 83 
 
 A TRIP UP LAKE GEORGE. 
 
 In the northeastern part of New York State h'es a beautiful 
 sheet of water surrounded by lofty and precipitous mountains. 
 When seen beneath the midday sun of July or August, the lake 
 looks like a great mirror of silver encased in a setting of emer- 
 alds, so brightly is the light reflected from its clear surface and 
 thickly wooded shores. Beautifully do its waters wind in and 
 out among the hills, and ripple around the little islands with 
 which it is thickly studded. No -wonder that the Indian, when 
 standing upon the shores of this, his beautiful Horicon, should 
 have .thought that the Great Spirit smiled when its waters were 
 tranquil, and was angry when its waves lashed one another in 
 the furious tempest. No wonder that its holy discoverer when 
 beholding it among the evening shadows of the festival of St. 
 Sacrament, should have thought that its pure waters were worthy 
 to be used in that other sacrament which Christ ordained by the 
 sacred stream of Jordan. 
 
 It v/as our good fortune, during the past summer, to visit this 
 beautiful lake, in company with a party of college friends. We 
 had been passing a few days among the ruins of Ticonderoga, 
 around which cluster so many Revolutionary memories. We 
 had wandered about the crumbling walls, and sat upon the 
 mouldering fortifications where Ethan Allen, surrounded by his 
 Green Mountain boys, had demanded a surrender, in words 
 never to be forgotten while American history endures. We 
 had seen the grove of pines, beneath whose shade the brave 
 Abercrombie had fought so heroically until obliged to retreat 
 with the remnant of his shattered ai'my. In fact we had seen 
 and heard almost everything that was worth seeing and hearing 
 about the old fortress, and on a delightful afternoon in August, 
 we left the little village of " Ty," Avith its muddy streets and 
 tumble-down houses, and Avere soon on board the steamer ready 
 for a sail up Lake George. There was quite a party of tour- 
 ists on the boat who seemed determined to enjoy the scenery ; 
 the sun shone brightly, the sky was without a cloud and every- 
 thing bid fair for a pleasant trip. At four o'clock we left the 
 unobtrusive landing which graces the lower extremity of the 
 lake, and turned our attention to surveying the beauties of this 
 
84 A TRIP VV LAKE GEORGE. 
 
 " Gem of American Waters." Owing to a severe storm a day 
 or two previous, the water was somewhat turpid, but still the 
 pebbly bottom could be seen distinctly enough to give us some 
 idea of the transparency of those Avaters under more favorable 
 circumstances. The shores at this end of the lake were very 
 precipitious, and in many places the moss-covered granite rose 
 in a perpendicular wall from the edge of the water. As the 
 little steamer, gliding swiftly by these places, blew her whistle, 
 the echos came rushing back upon the ear from the numerous 
 faces of the chfFs. 
 
 The first places of interest pointed out to us was Rogers' Slide, 
 a steep and lofty precipice, down which, the brave major is 
 reported to have leaped when pursued by Indians. As we 
 looked up at the rough and jagged surface of this slide, we were 
 forced to agree with the savages in considering Rogers a plucky 
 fellow, and one deserving to go uninjured if he had succeeded 
 in clearing that height without a broken neck. 
 
 One of the chief beauties of Lake George consists in its 
 winding course. There are numerous places where the observer 
 thinks that the lake must come to an end. The lofty mountains 
 rise abruptly on every side and there seems to be no passage to 
 the right or the left. While you are wondering whether it does 
 really end here or extend farther, the steamer makes a sudden 
 turn and new beauties rise before your eyes. New islands 
 spring from the tranquil waters, new mountains raise their lofty 
 summits against the clear sky, and new cottages appear along 
 the thickly wooded shores. 
 
 We soon came in sight of Sabbath Day Point, noted as the 
 camping-place of Abercrombie's army when on their expedition 
 against Ticonderoga. Upon that narrow strip of land, more 
 than a century ago, the British soldiers halted to take a few 
 hours of rest. As they lay that night beneath the cloudless 
 heavens, how must their thoughts have wandered back to distant 
 homes and friends, and how sad must have been the hearts of 
 many of them who felt that indescribable foreboding which told 
 them that the coming conflict w^ould be their last. Great is the 
 change which a hundred years have wrought upon this scene. 
 Then it was an unknown wilderness ; now it waves with growing 
 corn and is dotted with the houses of the farmer. 
 
A TRIP UP LAKE GEORGE. 85 
 
 A few miles farther on we entered the Narrows. This is the 
 most charming part of the lake. The water is thickly set with 
 little islands, each of which has its covering of verdure, each its 
 little copse of trees. There are no dry and barren rocks among 
 them to disfigure by their presence the picturesqueness of the 
 scene. When we had emerged from this network, and were once 
 more upon the extended surface of the lake, hotels appeared at dif- 
 ferent points along the shores. We touched at several of them, 
 and from the numbers of people who thronged the piers, M'e 
 judged that the beauties of Lake George were well appreciated. 
 The water was dotted with pleasure boats, summer houses 
 peeped from among the trees, and in many places natural land- 
 ings were formed by the rocks which projected into the lake. 
 Indeed everything was attractive and well fitted to make one 
 long to linger about these delightful spots. And now the sun 
 set behind the western hills, lighting up the sky with its glowing 
 rays. The mountains seemed to be on fire and looked like huge 
 volcanoes breathing forth their flames. But the brightness 
 gradually faded, and crimson, orange, purple, and rose, quickly 
 succeeded each other in the summer sky, until at last the dull 
 gray of evening settled over the whole scene. The fires of the 
 volcanoes had died out, and only dark and ragged craters re- 
 mained. Soon Dome Island raised its beautiful curve above the 
 water, and at the next bend in the lake the lights of Caldwell 
 came in sight. As we approached the landing, a band, consist- 
 ing for the most part of a drum and trombone, were vigorously 
 playing before the Fort William Henry Hotel. From the style 
 of music which they discoursed we concluded that they were en- 
 deavoring to drive all visitors over to the Lake George House. 
 Nothing but the approaching darkness and the thought of a 
 warm supper could have persuaded us to leave our seat upon the 
 deck, where for three hours we had sat enchanted by the beau- 
 tiful scenery. But yielding to necessity we bade a reluctant 
 farewell to the " Minnehaha," and went on shore. 
 
 Such is a brief description of our sail upon this charming lake ; 
 a sail long to be remembered as one of the pleasantest experi- 
 ences of our summer tour. And now, when once again we have 
 returned to classic halls, and sit surrounded by dry lecture-books 
 
86 THE SPIRIT OF DETRACTION; 
 
 and other unpleasant hints of college duties, we often travel back 
 in fancy to that delightful region, where 
 
 " In the deepest core 
 Of the free wilderness, a crystal sheet 
 Expands its mirror to the trees that crowd 
 Its mountain borders." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF DETRACTION; ITS MANIFESTATION, ITS 
 SOURCE, ITS CURE. 
 
 " The small wares and petty points of cunning," says Lord 
 Bacon, "are infinite." So might the same, with equal truth, be 
 said of the spirit of detraction or slander. It manifests itself in 
 a multitude and variety of ways, almost corresponding to the 
 individual peculiarities of those who employ it. 
 
 Thus, in describing to us the actions of others, how often will 
 men put some fact or facts which have an important bearing 
 upon a full and just conception of the case wholly in the back- 
 ground, or even leave them out altogether, while they magnify 
 others unduly and so create a Avrong impression. If we take up 
 any partizan newspaper in America for the last quarter of a 
 century, we shall find it full of examples of this sort of detrac- 
 tion. It is, to such sheets, wholly immaterial that a public officer 
 does his duty according to the best of his abihty, he is directly 
 charged with all manner of misdemeanor. To seek out or bring 
 forward facts as proof is to them only a useless ^yaste of precious 
 time, besides it is far better to adhere to the general principle, 
 that all their opponents are guilty as a matter of course, and 
 supply the quantity and quality of material needed, from a fruit- 
 ful thougK vicious imagination. Take away from American I 
 editors the privilege of abusing and calling each other pet names, 
 and of misrepresenting public men and measures, and poHtically, 
 the occupation of nine-tenths of them has gone. 
 
 It is one of the saddest characteristics of our fallen natures, 
 that we oftentimes experience a sort of hidden and inward satis- 
 faction at hearing and causelessly repeating the supposed wrong 
 actions of another. We do not once stop to ask ourselves in a 
 true, manly spirit. What were the motives that prompted this 
 
ITS MANIFESTATION, ITS SOURCE, ITS CURE. 87 
 
 action, and what the circumstances that attended it. Our first 
 impulse is not to seek out the erring one, to try to reason with 
 him and make him better, but rather to add additional fuel to 
 the already" enkindled flame, which is to consume an otherwise 
 fair reputation. When we see men acting thus we may be 
 morally certain of one of three things ; they are either wantonly 
 slanderous, or thoughtless or senseless. In either case their 
 acquaintance and companionship is neither desirable, profitable, 
 nor safe. 
 
 There is also another class of persons, who, under the guise 
 and pretence of friendship, injure the good name of others. 
 Thus Hdrace remarks, " Capitolinus is my friend, and we have 
 lived long together and obliged each other by mutual endear- 
 ments, and I am glad he is acquitted by the criminal judges ; yet 
 I confess I Avonder how he should escape." Well may we say 
 in the words of Massinger, of such summer friendship, whose 
 flattering leaves shadow us in prosperity, only to fall away at 
 the least gust, in the autumn of adversity, — 
 
 " It is a monster to be strangled in the birth, and not to be cherished." 
 
 This is a form the more injurious, because of its insidiousness. 
 It completely takes away all suspicion of vicious intent. But 
 while it does this, it also renders the sin the greater, for the 
 detractor commits the double wrong of slander and deception. 
 
 In reading the laws of any commonwealth, we often come 
 upon many sections wliic.h commence by granting the most 
 sweeping powers, but end with a sort of provisory phrase com- 
 pletely modifying and changing the idea that was first conveyed 
 to us. So do men often detract from the character and reputa- 
 tion of others. They will recount to us the deeds or actions of 
 another in terms the most flattering and praiseworthy, but by 
 some apparently careless or chance remark or seemingly honest 
 criticism, will overthrow the whole structure they have reared, 
 brand their victim with infamy, and leave us more unfavorably 
 impressed than before. Says Dr. Johnson: 
 
 '' The man who dares to dress misdeeds 
 And color them with virtue's name, deserves 
 A double punishment from both gods and men," 
 
 But not less worthy of reprobation and punishment is that deceit 
 
88 THE SPIRIT OF DETRACTION;/ 
 
 which would steal such gentle shapes as those of sincerity and 
 fairness, and with a virtuous visor hide its deep cunning and 
 malignity, while it inflicts sad and unmerited wrong. 
 
 " Two of a trade," says the old proverb, "can never agree." 
 This is far too true. Men of the same occupation striving to 
 attain similar ends and employing similar means thereto, natu- 
 rally, if there is a trace of selfishness in their hearts, become 
 envious and ill-disposed toward one another. Then slander and 
 backbiting follow as a matter of course. There is no man who 
 does not suflPer in a greater or less degree from this source. 
 Each storekeeper always has a far better stock of goods than his 
 neighbor, even though they all purchased at the same establish- 
 ment. Your doctor almost desires for you the services of some 
 kind and worthy undertaker if you happen to consult another of 
 the craft without his suggestion. If you attempt to awaken a 
 more lively religious interest in the parish of another, there is a 
 chance that your brother clergyman will consider you either an 
 interloper seeking after proselytes, or a teacher of false doctrine. 
 
 There is a kind of detraction often indulged in by otherwise 
 very good persons. Its manner is well described in Scott's " Lord 
 of the Isles": 
 
 " 0, many a shaft at random sent, 
 
 Finds mark the archer never meant ; 
 
 And many a word at random spoken, 
 
 Not soothes, hut wounds the heart most broken,." 
 
 It consists rather in thoughtless gossip to pass away time, and 
 render oneself agreeable than in a real desire to injure. It is 
 nevertheless, just as wrong and injurious for all that, and never 
 should, nor will be indulged by persons of character. It finds 
 its a.ptest illustration in the tea parties of years ago, which Irving 
 so graphically describes, where middle-aged spinsters without 
 prospects or good looks, and venerable dames in white caps, 
 regaled themselves and each other by sipping tea and repeating, 
 with many well-timed "ohs," " ahs," and "do tells," the petty 
 abuse and slander of the neighborhood. Such conversation might 
 seem at first, perhaps, merely insignificant prattle, unworthy of 
 notice. But it should be remembered that such sounds, caught 
 by the quick ear of the ill-disposed, never lose anything in their 
 transition, unless it be in truth. 
 
ITS MANIFESTATION, ITS SOURCE, ITS CURE. 89 
 
 If we could only look deep enough into the hearts of many of 
 our fellow-beings, we should find deep rooted in many of them, 
 a strono; love of contention and turmoil. It often manifests 
 itself in tale-bearing, a sort of indirect kind of defamation and 
 a course of countless evils. The character of this species of 
 detraction, and the consequences which result from it, may be 
 seen from the following lines : 
 
 " From door to door j^ou might have seen him speed, 
 
 Or placed amid a group of gaping fools, 
 
 And whispering in their ears with his foul lips, 
 
 Peace fled the neighborhood in which he made his haunts." 
 
 There is another class of detractors, who, too cowardly to 
 use words, make use of other and perhaps even more eifectivfj 
 instruments. Of such Swift says : 
 
 " They speak a language of their own, 
 Can read a nod, a shrug, a look. 
 Far better than a printed book ; 
 Convey a libel in a frown. 
 And wink a reputation down." 
 " Or, by the tossing of a fan 
 Describe the lady and the man." 
 
 Still another class there is, worse than all the rest, who malic- 
 iously lie, both consciously and intentionally, injuring the repu- 
 tation of others. " Such a false tongue," says Jeremy Taylor 
 in one of his sermons, " is like a poisoned arrow," it makes 
 every wound deadl}' and every scratch incurable. From such 
 there is none upright enough to escape. They act from a nat- 
 ural love of the thing itself, and were one as pure as snow he 
 could not escape the soiling of their filthy fingers. For such 
 there can be no punishment too severe, either here or hereafter, 
 nor censure too bitino;. 
 
 But even as the manifestations of this spirit are numerous, so 
 are the sources whence it proceeds. We may say in general 
 that it originates in the perverted passions of men ; or to be more 
 specific, in envy, as when we slander another thinking to elevate 
 ourselves thereby, or to gratify a mean desire for revenge ; in 
 thoughtlessness or a desire to render oneself agreeable, as when we 
 repeat the petty faults of others for the amusement of idle 
 hands and idler heads ; in malice, in a spirit of intolerance and 
 
 2 
 
90 THE SPIRIT OF DETRACTION. 
 
 bigotry^ It may further spring from a feeling of conceit and 
 self-sufficiency, which would make us assume to be the judges of 
 our fellows, from a pleasure at beholding the mishaps of others, 
 from a feeling; of revenge on account of some real or fancied 
 injury, from a love of discord and contention and a desire to 
 gratify the evil and perverted tastes of others. Men sometimes 
 slander, as they say, in hope of working reformation in the faults 
 of others. The remedy, however, is far from desirable, and, 
 like the nostrums of many a quack, it kills far more than it cures. 
 Such, in brief, are a few of the principal sources from which 
 this spirit of detraction proceeds. 
 
 • We consider in the third place, the means whereby it may be 
 cured. If it is in ourselves that reformation is needed, then we 
 should make ourselves thoroughly acquainted with our duty by 
 studying our relations both to God and man. If, after fully 
 knowing this, we in any instance fail to fulfill it, we should reflect 
 upon our action till a proper sense of guilt is awakened. Bear 
 the rebukes and upbraidings of conscience, till we become so 
 thoroughly impressed with our own wrong doing and sin, as to 
 resolve firmly never to repeat it. 
 
 If however, it is in others that the work is to be accomplished 
 then there are four principal ways that present themselves, 
 whereby we may bring about the change desired. These are 
 
 1st. By unfolding and impressing upon the mind of the 
 guilty one, the moral law as it relates to the duties of men one 
 toward another, and by appealing to his self interest and his 
 sense of human justice, fairness and honor. 
 
 2d. By placing before him, in the clearest and most forcible 
 light possible, the commands of God concerning it, as made 
 known in the Holy Scriptures, and with these the penalties en- 
 tailed upon the offender by disobedience. 
 
 3d. By treating him in all your intercourse with him in such 
 a manner as shall plainly indicate your disapprobation of his 
 conduct, and so that he may, if possible, be appealed to by feel- 
 ings of self interest. 
 
 4th. By calling upon society to protect one's character and 
 
 reputation, and by demanding the punishment of the offenders. 
 
 Of these the last two should be rarely, if ever, appealed or 
 
 resorted to. The others are far better and more effectual. Men 
 
THE PAIRY QUEEN. 91 
 
 rarely become so mean or low, that they may not be led by 
 reason, kindness and Christian charity both to know and do the 
 right, so that, at last, strong in the conscionsness of right action, 
 and happy in the joys of sincere repentance, they may put away 
 all bitterness and wrath and clamor and evil speaking from 
 them, and pray, in the language of Bishop Wilson, " May I 
 never hear, and never repeat with pleasure, such things as may 
 dishonor God, hurt my own character, or injure my neighbor." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 
 
 As the setting sun leaves behind a flood of mellow light which 
 rests upon the hills and waters as its parting benediction, so the 
 imagination of Spenser has thrown a flush of beauty over English 
 ]:)oetry. 
 
 The Fairy Queen is, to the admirer of Spenser, what Italy is 
 to the traveller. Its beautiful legends are like her haunted 
 palaces, and the quaintness of its diction like the moss and ivy 
 of her crumbling ruins. 
 
 The chief characteristics of Spenser's genius were his rich 
 and powerful imagination and his love of the beautiful. He 
 was led, therefore, by the bent of his own mind, to choose a 
 subject in the treatment of which he could display his full powers 
 of imagination without resti-aint. His own education, and still 
 more the taste of the age, induced him to adopt the allegory. 
 He entered, like Prospero, an enchanted land and with a magic 
 wand called forth aerial spirits to do his bidding. All the legends 
 and fairy tales of Italian romance were at his command. He 
 had only to reproduce them in his own language and they 
 acquired a new interest and a new charm. 
 
 Without the vividness of his language and the rich coloring 
 which he has thrown over the whole poem, it would have been 
 impossible for him to have maintained an interest even in the 
 first three books. But the melody of the verses, " Like the 
 swell of some sweet tune," pleases the ear and lures us along 
 until we forget the "dark conceit" of the allegory and the 
 connection of the story. Like the lady Una and the Red-cross 
 
92 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 
 
 knight in the beautiful forest, we wander along, " with pleasure 
 forward led," until we forget where we are. 
 
 Yet this poem which was the dawn of a new era in English 
 literature, and the delight of the chivalrous age in which it was " 
 produced, is now read chiefly by scholars, and by them too often 
 merely to unravel its " dark conceit " and doubtful allusions. 
 They look upon it as a " quaint and curious volume of forgotten 
 lore," and make the reading of it a task instead of a pleasure. 
 Like the works of the old painters it is admired by many but 
 known only to the "favored few." One chief cause of its lack 
 of popularity is the difficulty in understanding the allegory. 
 " Many seem," as Hazzlitt says " to be afraid of the allegory as 
 if it would bite them." They look upon it as an object of 
 wonder, like the huge dragon slain by Prince Arthur, but are 
 afraid of taking hold of it. But the pleasure we receive in 
 reading the Fairy Queen is not diminished if we do not under- 
 stand the allegory, though the aim of the poet as a teacher of 
 truth may be lost. We are delighted with the colors of a paint- 
 ing, even if we do not know what it represents. Indeed, we 
 forget all about the cardinal virtues which Spenser intended to 
 represent by his characters, and think of them rather as real 
 persons. We do not think of immodest mirth in Phgedria, but 
 of a laughing, beautiful, bewitching woman ; nor of temperance 
 as a virtue, but of Sir Guyon as a man, bursting like a zealous 
 reformer into the realms of Acrasia, and rudely disturbing the 
 slumbers of " that wanton lady with her lover loose." In 
 Shakspeare it is just the opposite ; we think not of Othello, but 
 of jealousy, not of Macbeth, but of murder. Spenser him- 
 self seems to have forgotten all about the allegory in his eager 
 desire to make everything beautiful. His poetry is " all fairy- 
 land." He painted everything as it existed in his imagination, 
 not as it really was. He leads us away out of the world of fact 
 into a gorgeous dreamland, where we listen, like Caliban, to 
 " Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not." Like 
 the attendant spirit in the Masque of Comus, he dwells in the 
 midst of aerial spirits. 
 
 " In regions mild of calm and serene air, 
 Above tlie smoke and stir of this dim spot, 
 Which men call earth." 
 
THE FAIRY QUEEN. 93 
 
 is fic/f all romances the Fairy Queen is the most romantic ; and, 
 casting the allegory aside, it loses none of its power to please. 
 A dreamy schoolboy was once drawing a picture with which he 
 was greatly delighted. His teacher bending over him asked him 
 what he was drawing. "A palace for fairies." "And where 
 are the fairies ? " " In the palace, sir," was the prompt reply. 
 So it is with the Fairy Queen ; the virtues are in the allegory 
 out of sight. Like the schoolboy, we should leave them there, 
 and be content to admire the palace in which they dwell. Spen- 
 ser intended to make Prince Arthur the principal hero ; but he 
 is really an inferior character. Like the goddess in the JEneid, 
 he appears when he is needed, and rescues the other heroes and 
 then retires. The poem would have been much simpler and 
 more entertaining as a story, if Prince Arthur had been left out 
 entirely, and if each book had been made a complete tale with- 
 out connection with the others. 
 
 The quaint forms of expression and antique diction also con- 
 tribute to its lack of popularity. The metre which Spencer adopted 
 often compelled him to make use of words oddly spelled, in 
 order to complete the rhyme ; but he often uses these forms when 
 it is entirely unnecessary, and the odd appearance of the word 
 on the page does not please the eye. 
 
 But notwithstanding all the obvious faults of the Fairy Queen 
 they are more than balanced by the beauties of the work. The 
 allegory is of such a character that the reader can often inter- 
 pret it as he pleases. A little study will make him master of 
 most of the old forms of Avords and antique expressions, and then 
 there is spread before him a " perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets." 
 The cadence of the Spenserian stanza, " musical as Apollo's 
 lute," is an adequate compensation for all the bad spelling. 
 
 The Fairy Queen is like the famous scenes of the Alps. The 
 way is long and sometimes difficult, but the beauties reward the 
 traveller for all his toil. New scenes are met at every step. 
 Flowers bloom by the side of the rugged and dusty road. Now 
 the way is monotonous and unvaried ; now broken by the ap- 
 pearance of the gloomy walls of the Cave of Despair, and the 
 glittering heaps of Mammon. Now the laugh of the Lady of 
 the Idle Lake is heard and the songs of the maidens dancing in 
 
94 THE JUST CLAIMS OF FICTION, 
 
 the groves beyond, and thus " The easy turns and quamtnti-ire 
 the song;" lead us to the end. " Such tricks hath strong imagi- 
 nation." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 THE JUST CLAIMS OF FICTION. 
 
 The Americans have been said to be a remarkably silent peo- 
 ple. The same writer who makes this statement accounts for it 
 by ascribing to us an extraordinary taste for literature, — or at 
 least a national tendency to devote to the perusal of printed 
 pages those hours which might otherwise be spent in social rela- 
 ation. Reading has usurped the place of conversation. 
 
 It is quite probable that this is true ; but it is equally true, 
 though perhaps to a less degree, of all the leading nations of 
 Europe. There is not one of them but what will admit that 
 times have greatly changed for the better since those days when 
 the knowledge of letters was confined to the clerical orders^ 
 and the noblest and wealthiest esteemed it no disgrace to be 
 ignorant of the art of reading and writing their mother tongue. 
 
 The universal prevalence of ability and inclination to read, 
 wdiich characterizes the present age, is abundantly proved by 
 the flood of publications of all descriptions constantly issuing 
 from the press. That demand must be enormous which must be 
 supplied by the continual toil of steam, the mightiest agency yet 
 subjected to human control. Let us pause and consider ere we 
 decry this preference of reading instead of conversation, and. 
 stigmatize it as one of the innumerable manifestions of the degen- 
 eracy of the age ; and, on the other hand, let us beware of undue 
 elation in regarding it as a proof of our intellectual superiority 
 to those who have lived in times gone by. There can be no 
 doubt that, premising a judicious selection, more benefit is derived 
 from an hour spent with books, than would result if the same 
 time were employed in conversation. But is suitable discrimi- 
 nation always shown in the choice of reading matter? Is a 
 proper use made of the literary advantages with which we are 
 so abundantly provided ? . 
 
 A very large proportion of the literature of the present day 
 
THE JUST CLAIMS OF FICTION. 95 
 
 \ is fictitious. No other class of works is so widely read. Many 
 authors have reached the height of their profession, who have 
 gained their popularity from their success in fiction alone. The 
 reasons of this are obvious. Most works of this description are 
 ideal representations of life. We are attracted by what suggests, 
 and perhaps in some degree reproduces, our own experience, 
 and the connection and intimate relation of the events fixes our 
 attention, while the conclusion, if not always consistent with 
 ordinary life, is usually, at least, in accordance with our wishes 
 and expectations. 
 
 Pure fiction is of rare occurrence in the specimens of early 
 literature which have come down to us. There can be no 
 doubt, indeed, that a large portion of the ancient mythology 
 must be received with due allowance for the free play of imag- 
 ination and love of romance, which seem to have prevailed in 
 those primitive times. Nevertheless, it is probable that much or 
 it was at least "founded on fact." Although many passages or 
 the Iliad tax our credulity, the principal parts of Homer's narra- 
 tive are matter of history. The same may be said of the 
 -^neid. Even the dramas were mostly historical. The taste 
 for writings wholly and confessedly fictitious is comparatively a 
 late one. It may be said that some of the early travellers, such 
 as Sir John Mandeville and Marco Polo, were endowed with a 
 remarkable facility of invention, and yet of the travels of the 
 former it is recorded, that " no work of the age was more popu- 
 lar " ; but the public could not probably then distinguish the 
 real from the unreal as readily as readers living in a more 
 enlightened period. Now, however, fiction takes a most promi- 
 nent position in the world of letters. 
 
 Considerable has been said and written on the subject of 
 novels and novel reading. Its effects have generally been repre- 
 sented as injurious. It cannot be denied that there is reason for 
 this, for too often it happens that such works have a direct hurt- 
 ful tendency. It is to be hoped that this is seldom the case ; but 
 a large share of them fail to exert a beneficial influence on the 
 mind. The chief interest consists in the succession of incidents 
 and their dependence on each other, all contributing (supposing 
 the plot well-regulated) to the final adjustment, which is noto- 
 riously liable to be correctly forestalled by the reader. The 
 
96" THE JUS,T CLAIMS OF FICTION. 
 
 style of conversation in ordinary novels is apt to become vapid 
 and commonplace, and if emotional displays occur, they are 
 overdrawn and melodramatic. The entire tone, therefore, is 
 shallow and artificial," and incapable of producing any lasting 
 effect. Consequently they may cause harm by occupying to no 
 purpose time which might be profitably employed. 
 
 Another objection to be urged against this kindtof reading is 
 that it vitiates the mental taste and creates a disrelish of substan- 
 tial and instructive literature, and if carried to excess even crippling 
 the energies of the mind, and depriving it of the power requisite 
 for continued and successful application. In such a case all 
 information, to be palatable, must be administered through the 
 medium of a narrative. It is to be feared that this state is 
 becoming prevalent, for the large supply of such reading would 
 indicate a large demand. As an author must write what the 
 public will read, the literary market is flooded with tales of all 
 grades and descriptions. We see the history of all ages rapidly 
 assuming the form of the novel, which is almost universally the 
 case with the books designed for childhood and youth, thus foster- 
 ing incorrect tastes from the very beginning. 
 
 Fiction, however, is not to be wholly condemned and dis- 
 carded ; like most things, it is well enough in its proper place. 
 When the mind is exhausted by continued and severe labor, it 
 furnishes readily the needed relaxation, and in this way may be 
 useful in the early stages of education ; but it might be prefer- 
 able not to employ it as a means of education. When the child 
 reads a story, let it be a story, and not a diluted version of Scrip- 
 ture, or the still more familiar youthful marvel who always 
 minded his mother, never stole jam, ate green apples, tore his 
 trowsers, &c., &c., and whose promising career was nipped in 
 the bud — a reward of merit probably unappreciated by the 
 average juvenile. The absurdity of these is so evident as to 
 have been noticed more than once. As some one said lately, 
 writing on this subject, " When we have nonsense, let it be non- 
 sense." " Mother Goose," it is to be presumed, is acknowledged 
 by mature minds to be purely fictitious, yet who so hard-hearted 
 as to wrest it from the tender hands of infancy ? Here the 
 Germans are wise ; every one is familiar with the quaint and 
 delightful legends, so attractive to the ear of childhood. 
 
TAKPEIA. 97 
 
 Fiction, however, may promote higher ends than those of 
 mere amusement. It may contribute to elevate and refine 
 humanity. It may awaken higher aims and aspirations by show- 
 ing the blessings attendant on a life of virtue, or depicting the 
 degradation consequent to a course of vice. It may appeal to 
 benevolence and philanthropy, and enlist all hearts in the cause 
 of the downtrodden and oppressed. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 TARPEIA. 
 
 Beneath. Jove's fane, wherein did kneel 
 
 The pious men of days of old, 
 Beneath the tread of iron heel 
 
 ^Vherewith was shod the Koman bold. 
 
 Within the green Saturnian mound, 
 
 Deep huried in its very heart. 
 The fair Tarpeia sits spell-bound 
 
 By mystic word of mystic art. 
 
 Nor Sabine wiles, nor Roman hate 
 Can penetrate this hidden seat. 
 
 And thus she sits in solemn state, 
 The Sabine gems beneath her feet. 
 
 Beneath her feet foul treason's hire. 
 The jewels and the Sabine gold, 
 
 The price for which she killed her sire. 
 The price for which great Rome was sold. 
 
 As thus she sits in magic trance 
 Within the inmost beds of ore, 
 
 About her flit in weird-like dance 
 The hopes and memories of ji'ore. 
 
 What time in innocence she walked, 
 The fairest of the Latian girls ; 
 
 What time with them she gail}^ talked, 
 And had not seen the Sabine pearls. 
 
 And so Tarpeia oft complains 
 
 Of agony and solitude ; 
 And with her meanings and her pains, 
 
 The gentle hillside is imbued. 
 
 But when the Roman hears these tones, 
 Thus welling from this woman's soul, 
 
98 A SNIFF OF MOUNTAIN AIR. 
 
 He says, " The fair Tarpeia moans ; 
 She's weary of her prison-hole." 
 
 He knows the sad, weird tones arise 
 From out the sunless, gilded tomb, 
 
 AVherein Tarpeia' s spirit lies 
 Forever pining at its doom. 
 
 Alas ! 'Tis not alone o'er Rome 
 
 That these sad strains in sorrow float ! 
 Alas ! We hear much nearer home 
 The same sad moans, the same sad notes ! 
 
 Nor can we say Tarpeia' s part 
 Is never played on earth to day ; 
 
 That never is the tender heart 
 For Sabine tinsel flung away. 
 
 Fair women now in Hymen's trance 
 Have sacrificed what was most dear ; 
 
 We meet and pass them in the dance, 
 But know not of the secret tear. 
 
 They sadlj'- sit in frescoed room 
 With tapestry like twilight haze ; 
 
 And yet they only curse their doom, 
 
 They think of nought but vanished days. 
 
 •The tender days of poverty ; 
 
 When all unknown was Mammon's Mart ; 
 When life was not a brazen lie, 
 
 When all unmortgaged was the heart. 
 
 But now they sit in Hymen's trance, 
 And moan as moaned the Latian maid, 
 
 While at their feet with sullen gleam 
 The shining Sabine gems are laid. 
 
 O Sabine World ! Too late — too late 
 We see thy hollowness and lust ! 
 
 The years go by with halting gait — 
 Thy shining gems are ground to dust ! 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 A SNIFF OF MO UNTAIN AIR. 
 
 "This day dame Nature seemed in love, 
 The lusty sap began to move ; 
 Fresh juice did stir the embracing vines, 
 And birds had drawn their Valentines. 
 The jealous trout that low did lie, 
 Rose at a well-dissembled fly. 
 
 Sir Henry Wotten. 
 
A SNIFF OF MOUNTAIN AIR. 99 
 
 One sweltering morning in last Angust, five hot and perspiring 
 fellows might have been seen bravely plodding along the sandy, 
 arid road which leads from Jackson Village, N. H., to the foot 
 •of Mount Washington, By the sun, that old-fashioned bull's- 
 eye which never gains or loses a minute, it was now about eleven 
 o'clock, and the almost perpendicular rays of heat seemed deter- 
 mined to bake all nature by dinner-time ; but the patient pedes- 
 trians march speechlessly on, regardless of the heat, with a long 
 loping stride, which tells of many a good mile of practice. 
 
 But hark ! As they come, the silence of the dense woods 
 around them is pierced by a distant noise of civilization. The 
 clattering of pails and kettles, 'the tintinabulation of pans and 
 coffee-pots is borne on the torpid air ; and as it draws nearer, 
 the rattling of rickety wheels and now and then the sound of a 
 single haritone-teywre voice is heard. 
 
 Gradually the sounds approach, and at length, there wheels 
 around a turn in the road a strange equipage, with a still stranger 
 driver running beside it and urging on his reeking beast to his 
 utmost speed. Pails of all kinds seem to fill the air in a halo 
 about the light wagon and its heavy load — pails on top and pails 
 underneath — pails tied on the tail-board and hung over the axle- 
 tree, all flying about in the air and battering against the wagon 
 and each other, making the woods ring again with their clatter. 
 
 The wagon contains a miscellaneous load, somewhat similar 
 to a peddler's stock in appearance. Boxes of all sizes and shapes 
 — a barrel of crackers — a tent with the long pole and other 
 appurtenances — fishing rods — blankets, neatly strapped up in 
 bundles — a guitar box — a banjo in a green case — a number 
 of coats loosely flung on top — and, as the auctioneer's adver- 
 tisements say, a variety of other articles. 
 
 A mild snicker passes round among the party at the enervated 
 appearance of the reckless driver as he stops his fiery steed, and 
 paces speechlessly onward with the rest. 
 
 And now another sound is heard — sweeter to those parching 
 youths than the notes of grand orchestras or the voices of smil- 
 ing girls. The peculiar hollow gurgling music of " Miime Ha 
 Ha," " Laughing water," sounds through the trees. At this 
 blessed sound the stride of the party quickens and even the tired 
 horse picks up his ears and breaks into a wretched amble and 
 
100 A SNIFF OF MOUNTAIN AIR. 
 
 a rude bridge soon appears, made of unhewn logs laid crosswise, 
 with a balustrade of the same primitive construction, and span- 
 ning a stream twenty feet perhaps in width, which bends a little 
 above and below the bridge, until it seems to lose itself in the 
 foliage of its own banks. 
 
 " What river is tliis. Bill ? " asks the charioteer. 
 
 The gentleman addressed, the guide and commander of the 
 party, after consulting a guide book to make assurance doubly 
 sure, informs them that it is the " Glen Ellis River." He then 
 commands a halt, somewhat superfluously it must be confessed, 
 as his fellows are either already drinking from the river or stretched 
 out on the grass near, while the horse has for some time been 
 cropping the dampened herbage by the river side. 
 
 " Any fish in this?"' asks a gentleman distinguished by a 
 vsolferino colored shirt, and defective unmentionables. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the captain. 
 
 " What do you say to fishing her up ? " 
 
 "I'll do it." 
 
 " I'll be darned if I am going to put up the old tent for you," 
 exclaims a member, noticable for a real Panama hat of prodig- 
 ious size and ugliness. " I'm dish-washer, and I'm not going 
 to do your business and my own too." 
 
 " Well, we'll sleep outside then," answers the imperturable 
 commander. 
 
 " Oh ! you'll help, Bob," puts in speaker No. 5, who is evi- 
 dently the swell of the expedition, resplendent in leather boots, and 
 a shirt collar, and wearing the only cravat to be seen in the party. 
 
 " No, Bob has 'nt finished Diavola yet ; he's got to read that 
 to-night," said a gentleman whom fatigue has kept silent as yet. 
 "Look here ! let's camp here. I want to go a fishing too. I'm 
 cook, and I'll cook tiie fish for dinner." 
 
 " Yes !" echoed the dish-washer, " let's camp here." 
 
 The gentleman in solferino meantime, having got out a rod 
 and fitted it, and the captain having done the same, they shoul- 
 dered their light fishing basket and started up the river, while 
 the rest of the party at the captain's orders, reluctantly started 
 onward. 
 
 " What kind of a fly would you use, Bill," asked the solferino 
 fisherman of his companion. 
 
A SNIFF OF MOUNTAIN AIR. 101 
 
 " A brown hackle is the best for this month," was the reply. 
 " Are you going to use worm too ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Well, hooray for the man that gets the first fish. It's a pretty 
 good day, a little too bright, but we can't always have perfec- 
 tion. Plow 's the wind ?" 
 
 " A little east of south, I guess." 
 
 "That's good. You know what the old angler says: 
 'Leaves upon the willow, birds singing, bees humming, the 
 water full and clear, the early flowers peeping through the grass, 
 and a south wind blowing are sio^ns that the trout are waitino; to 
 try our skill.' We'll just give those fellows all the fish they 
 can eat to-night," 
 
 With that they disappeared round the bend. 
 
 * * sK * * * * 
 
 That evening the cool breezes from Mt. Washington blew 
 over a white tent standing at its foot like a cone of silver, glist- 
 eninof in the moon beams which ran to frisk about and lose them- 
 selves in the huge shadow of the mountain. Inside, reclining on 
 skins and blankets, sat a luxurious party of young gentlemen 
 capped, gowned, and slippered, smoking and talking over the 
 events of the day. 
 
 " By George I my toe is sore," observed a gorgeously gotten 
 up youth, who bears only a slight resemblance to the fatigued 
 charioteer of the morning. " It's no fun, running after that 
 darn horse." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried the cook, " I never saw such a fellow 
 
 as you are, L y. The idea of making a fuss about a little 
 
 walk like that. I could walk ten miles farther as easy as not." 
 This remark elicited a roar of laughing, for the robust speaker 
 did not, at that moment, look as if he had strength enough to 
 rout an ordinary musquito. 
 
 " Those fellows that fished did walk ten miles farther," said the 
 owner of the real Panama, looking up from the aforementioned 
 " Diavola." " What kind of a time did you have? " 
 
 " Magnificent," ejaculated both at once. 
 
 " How many fish did you get ? " 
 
 " A hundred and forty-odd." 
 
 " In a horn." 
 
102 A SNIFF OF MOUNTAIN AIR. 
 
 " We did, so help me Ben Butler." 
 
 " Let 's see 'em." 
 
 The trout were duly brought and admired, as well they might 
 be, as they lay in the basket pure and beautiful as their mother 
 element itself. 
 
 " Where did you catch them all ? tell us about it?" 
 
 " Did any of you fellows besides Bill, ever catch any trout?" 
 
 "No." • 
 
 "Well you ought to catch some. It is the best sport in the 
 world. I never remember such a delightful day as we have had 
 in mv life. When we left you this mornino- we started right up 
 the stream and fished clear up to tlie falls. It 's a beautiful 
 river. You probably noticed how rapidly it ran, at the bridge. 
 The reason it runs so ftist is that in addition to the falls, (which 
 we shall see to-morrow by the way,) which alone have a descent of 
 fifty feet or more, and of course, add great impetus, the river is 
 originally fed by streams which pour directly down the sides of 
 the mountain. Like all these rivers, it is full of rocks all the 
 way down, and in some places the whole channel is ragged rock. 
 Sometimes it falls six or eight feet perpendicular ; here and there 
 a little beach of pearly white gravel projects from the gnarled 
 bushes which line the bank ; and such a white, furious, seething 
 and boiling as it keeps up all around, you can 't conceive of. It 
 was like a little Niagara, so that when we occasionally were near 
 enough to speak to each other we had to bellow right into the 
 ear, or we could not hear at all. 
 
 You may laugh, boys, but I never felt so near heaven and so 
 far above the weaknesses and foibles of human nature as I did 
 then. It stirred every atom of sublimity in my nature. Imag- 
 ine standing in one place I remember, on a high rock which 
 divided the stream — here about thirty feet wide. The two divi- 
 sions fall two or three feet into a dark pool, which soon reduces 
 them to comparative stillness. On each side the trees and stifl 
 underbush come down even with the waters' edge, and back oi 
 them, looming up through the clouds, are mountains all around. 
 The might of nature towers everywhere, huge and resistless, and 
 such a sense of littleness, such a contempt for men and their 
 works as I felt then I hope I may never feel again. 
 
 But after a little spell of enjoyment of the entrancing scenes 
 
A SNIFF OF MOUNTAIN AIR. 103 
 
 came the sportsman's admiration of the hole below me. Deep, 
 wide, of the rich brown color which river water sometimes exhib- 
 its, it looked like the ancestral home of the royal family of the 
 trout kingdom. I fixed on my worm, looked at my tackle once 
 more, and after- making my cast, stood one moment in delicious 
 expectation — only one — before a silvery flash and. an electric 
 thrill, beginning at the tip of my rod and going to my very heels, 
 told me that I had struck a fish. I reeled up a little, and soon 
 landed him flouncing and struggling with his beautiful bright 
 spots, and white belly, and red fins, glistening and twinkling 
 like a water sprite. After taking him ofl^ I made another cast, 
 with the same result, instantly the flash, then a rush, mak- 
 ing the line whistle off" the reel, then I wound him up, and as 
 the pole did not bend dangerously, pulled him quickly yet stead- 
 ily out. That is the way to do un.less he prove too big and 
 powerful to be so unceremoniously treated, in which case he 
 must be tired out by artifice. When he makes his rush hold 
 pole and reel with 
 
 , " A steady hand whicli feels him, 
 
 Yet to his furious course gives way — " 
 
 then gradually ease him in nearer and nearer, and he gets ever 
 weaker and weaker, until the proper moment — then whish ! the 
 limber pole bends nearly double, the line cuts the water flinging 
 off' a feather of crystal spray and Mr. Trout comes whirling up 
 in all his magnificence. I got more than a dozen good fish out 
 of that hole besides small ones. 
 
 The worst part of it was getting up stream. Jumping from 
 rock to rock, scrambling through stiff underbush, or threading 
 a way among dense trees with pole and line, is no joke. I 
 tumbled down in the water no less than three times. Did you 
 tumble any. Captain ?" 
 
 Sn-o-ore, says the Captain, and looking round, the narrator 
 finds all asleep but him. He dropped his head upon a pound of 
 candles and a pair of boots which served him for a pillow, and if 
 anything more of consequence happened that day the deponent 
 knoweth it not. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 Education is the apprenticeship of Life, 
 
104 AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 
 
 AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 
 
 Freshman exercises were over, and the long summer vacation 
 was before us. Weary of the confinement of the recitation- 
 room, and the everlasting Greek verbs and Latin roots, together 
 with the savory sprinkling of Algebraic formulas, the newly- 
 fledged " Sophs " were glad to escape the tedium of college 
 restraint in the hot weather, and to be away' for a tramp to the 
 mountains, a cruise down the bay, or the quiet retreat of a 
 country home. 
 
 Being somewhat run down, (by hard study, of course,) I was 
 advised to take to the sea to recruit ;" and not believing very 
 strongly in homeopathic doses of anything good, I decided on a 
 six-weeks'cruise mackerel-catching, provided, indeed, I could 
 get a " chance." 
 
 The little propeller Geo. W. Shattuck, plies between Boston 
 and Provincetown three times a week, in which the sail down 
 Boston harbor has its attractions, to say nothing of the beau- 
 ties (?) of those far-famed sand hills of Cape Cod. We left 
 Commercial Wharf at 10 a. m., and following the winding chan- 
 nel of the harbor, passing Fort Warren, Boston Light, and Mi- 
 not's Ledge, we were upon the broad Atlantic, and felt for the 
 first time the long ground-swell with which Old Neptune de- 
 mands a tribute from the daring landsman who has the effront- 
 ery to invade his dominions. We paid no heed to the old fel- 
 low, however, except to laugh in his face and feel an exhilaration 
 in sniffing his salt breath, while some of our compagnons de voy- 
 age sought the realms of the stewardess below, with pale face 
 and agonizing look, or perhaps more frequently the friendly sup- 
 port of the guards, then and there to settle their little account 
 more hurriedly than agreeably. With an appetite such as the 
 sea breeze alone can sharpen, we did ample justice to the viands 
 with which the steward knows so w'ell how to spread the table, 
 and as we quietly smoked our after-dinner cigar on deck, the 
 low sand hills of the Cape rose from the water before us. 
 
 Gradually the little specks widen and lengthen until far round 
 to the south that long sandy arm of Massachusetts encircles us. 
 The steeples of Provincetown churches and the cupola of the 
 town-hou^e are ahead of us, the hills of the Cape stretch round 
 
AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 105 
 
 to the right, blue in the hazy distance, and Plymouth and Mon- 
 ument fast sink in the western horizon behind. As we approach 
 the Race Light objects grow more and more distinct. Here and 
 there is a fisherman's hut, or the bare ribs of some old wreck 
 rotting on the beach, while the sandy waste shows scarcely a 
 stunted savin or low pine, barely nourishing a few whortleberry 
 bushes and a sort of coarse, tough grass. We bear off towards 
 the south, round the Point, and enter the harbor, a complete 
 inclosure, protected from the sea by a wall of white, glistening 
 sand, Avithin which a thousand vessels can lie in safety against 
 the fiercest northeaster, the largest and safest harbor in the 
 world. A fleet of several hundred mat'kerelinen lying quietly 
 at anchor here is a sight of not unfrequent occurrence in the 
 autumn months. 
 
 On the north side, directly before us, lies Provincetown, built 
 on a narrow belt between the sand-hills and the shore, and ex- 
 tending more than a mile from east to west, or in the vernacular 
 " up along " and " down along." It is a very pretty place, of 
 five tliousand inhabitants — the jolliest and most social the trav- 
 eller can find anywhere on the coast — and has become quite 
 wealthy from its whaling and fishing interests. 
 
 As we jump on the dock, which extends fifteen hundred feet 
 out into the harbor — the shores are so shelving that the steamer 
 can approach no nearer at lovv water — our first thought is 
 to secure a room at the Pilgrim House, and then look for a 
 " chance " on board the numerous schooners lying high and 
 ^dry, waiting for flood tide to float them off, at the various 
 wharves about town. Our search is fruitless, and we retire 
 disheartened. 
 
 Next morning, however, fortune was more favorable. The 
 " Jos. Lindsay," familiarly known as the " Rocking Horse," 
 came in from the " Bay," with her first trip of 340 barrels, and 
 before she sailed again I was numbered among her crew. My 
 first care, so the skipper told me, would be to get my outfit. 
 He took me up to the " store," as I was something of a green- 
 horn, and kindly assisted me in selecting a suit of oil-clothes, a 
 heavy " sou' Avester " well lined with flannel and padded to keep 
 the ears warm, for rainy weather ; thick flannels and socks for 
 the cold northerns of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, mittens for 
 
 4 
 
106 AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 
 
 dressing fish ; a knife, iiooks, lines, &c., and last, but not least, 
 a pair offish-boots, which looked much as if they had been made 
 upon the " small end of an ox-yoke." 
 
 Well, I packed my kit and went aboard. Once on deck, I 
 began to look about me. She was a good staunch schooner of 
 sixty tons, well fitted out, stowed and provisioned for a six 
 weeks' cruise. My " bunk " was in the fore-hold, on top of the 
 molasses barrel, a clothes-bag for a pillow, a couple of quilts for 
 a bed, while my feet hung over into the forecastle. Everything 
 around seemed strange; the crew (sixteen besides myself) all 
 perfect strangers, and I destined to share their fortunes for the 
 next six weeks. But "•when in Rome one must do as the Ro- 
 mans do," so I took hold with the rest to get the vessel under 
 way; and at six o'clock on Tuesday, the 25th of July, we were 
 beating out of the harbor bound for the Gulf of St. Lawrence. 
 
 In tvi'o' hours we had rounded the Point and the Race, and 
 were running under reefed foresail east by south for the shore of 
 Nova Scotia, with the Highland Light astern growing dim in 
 the distance. My " oilers " came into requisition early, for a 
 heavy thunder shower overtook us just at dark, and when at 
 ten o'clock I was called to stand my first watch on deck, the 
 rain was descending in torrents. From ten to twelve I stood on 
 the lookout peering into the darkness, or chatted with the skip- 
 per at the wheel. At twelve I "turned in" once more, and 
 until morning was " rocked in the cradle of the deep" as sooth- 
 ingly as I had been 3"ears before in the little cradle at home. 
 
 In the morning we set all sail with a fair wind, and the next 
 -afternoon made the land under our lee bow. For three days 
 we hung along the coast detained by head tides, calms and fog. 
 The boys were all busy, however, running "jigs," and prepar- 
 ing for the campaign which was to open as soon as we reached 
 " the Bay." The jio; is a small hook with a piece of lead run 
 upon it in a mould and then smoothed off in any shape to suit 
 the taste of the owner. Some are heavy, some light, and others 
 medium, to suit the condition of the weather and the water. 
 The lines were rigged and coiled up under the starboard rail, 
 ■each man's in his berth, splitting knives were sharpened and put 
 in place, bait knives ground, and everything made ready. 
 
 Sunday morning we turned out in a thick fog, at the cry of 
 
AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 107 
 
 " breakers ahead." We were not lono; in turning our heels 
 towards them, and spying an Englishman jnst ahead of us, 
 sounding, we concluded to keep in his wake and let him pilot us 
 out of our difficulty. Under his guidance we were soon in the 
 smooth waters of Cliadabucto bay, and at four in the afternoon 
 came to anchor at Port Mulgrave, Great Gut of Canso, a dirty- 
 place of fifty houses, a dozen or twenty stores, a Catholic church, 
 and innumerable geese and hogs. The next morning at three 
 o'clock we weighed anchor, but owing to tl:e light breeze we 
 did not reach the fish-ground in George's Bay until four in the 
 afternoon. My strongly awakened curiosity as to how it would 
 seem to catch a live mackerel, was soon to be gratified. " Haul 
 down the jibs !" from the skipper. " Ease off the fore-sheet !'^ 
 " Come up with the boom-tackle !" " Stand by, one, to heave 
 bait !" '' Ease oft' the main-sheet and haul taut !" and the 
 schooner was lying to, drifting with the starboard side to wind- 
 ward, the skipper at the bait-box with his lines over, waiting 
 patiently for the first bite. While he is waiting let us look at 
 the preparations that are making. First, the bait has been 
 ground. It consists of salt porgies, found so abundantly in the 
 Narragansett during the summer months. These are ground up 
 in the "family hand-organ," which stands by the port main- 
 rigging, and at which every man takes his turn grinding a barrel 
 of porgies. • When ground fine enough, the bait is put in the 
 box at the starboard main-chains, and small quantities are kept 
 floating in the water to retain the school of mackerel alongside. 
 Meantime the main-hatchway has been opened and each man 
 has an empty barrel, called a "strike barrel," standing directly 
 behind his berth, into which he strikes the fish as fast as he 
 catches them. The hooks are baited with small pieces cut from 
 the throat of the mackerel, and ready for instant use. " Here 
 they come ! Fish, ho !" ci'ies the skipper, and in an instant 
 seventeen men are at the rail, each witli two lines overboard. 
 You feel a twitch on one of them. Haul in, hand over hand, 
 steadily but quickly ; lift him well from the water ; don't let 
 him strike the side of the vessel ; now over into your strike 
 barrel with a little jerk ; he parts from the hook, and lies floun- 
 dering in the bottom, while flip goes your jig again into the 
 water. Bv this time there is one on the other line. " Haul in 
 
108 AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 
 
 quick," cries my neighbor, " and don't get your line tangled. 
 There, I knew yon would ! Oh, confound it !" and fifteen 
 minutes must be spent to get my lines clear, while the others 
 are striking them briskly enough. But the skipper told me I . 
 had done well when 1 showed him twenty-four of the shining 
 beauties in the bottom of my barrel as thp result of my first 
 attempt, while he struck one full barrel and part of another. 
 They always go in schools, and sometimes will bite as fast as 
 you can pull — and two lines keep you busy enough — and some- 
 times very slowly ; sometimes all day long, and at others they 
 will stop all at once, and though you can see them darting 
 around your jig in the water, not a single one can you coax to 
 nibble. When they bite slowly, about four or five fathoms of 
 line are used, but as soon as they begin to come a little quicker, 
 the lines are always shortened, even up to two fathoms, to save 
 time and the danger of tangling. Oh, such sport as it is to take 
 them then, when you can till your barrel in ten minutes ! 
 
 But the catching is the prettiest part of it, for after that comes 
 the dressing. With a barrel-head and a splitting-knife, your 
 expert, taking the fish in his left hand, tail towards him and 
 back to the right, setting the knife firmly in at the nose, draws 
 it quickly along the backbone to the tail. This operation he will 
 perform as fast as one can hand the fish to him from the strike- 
 barrel. He throws them into a"'gip tub" — a box or half-bar- 
 rel — to be " gipped," a process performed as follows: — take 
 the fish in the left hand, head towards you, with mittens on your 
 hands to prevent them from chafing, then by inserting the thumb 
 of the right hand successively under the gill in each side of the 
 head the inside of the fish is quickly removed, and he is plunged 
 into a barrel of water. From this barrel he comes forth to go 
 through a very peculiar process, by which a poor, lean mackerel 
 is transformed into a good fat one. A fat fish when spread open 
 will "crack " along the belly just at the ends of the rib bones. 
 Now any blunt-edged instrument will make just such a " crack," 
 and your " leather-belly " is fattened immediately. Then once 
 more he goes into a barrel of water, and thence to a clean barrel 
 to be salted. When a sufficient quantity have been taken they 
 are headed up and stowed in the hold, to be re-packed at the 
 wharves at home, weighed, inspected and marked, when they 
 are ready for the market. 
 
AMONG THE MACKEREL-CATCHERS. 109 
 
 Our fish were all dressed at eight o'clock, and we willingly 
 turned in for the night as soon as the watch was set. While on 
 the fishing-ground we were called to breakfast by the steward 
 every morning at four o'clock ; hot biscuit and coffee and a fresh 
 cod taken the night before, or perhaps some of those tine fresh 
 mackerel. And sucli mackerel ! Talk about your fresh fish 
 ashore ! Oh, ye epicures, if you could only know what a fresh 
 mackerel is ! 
 
 We had dinner at ten, and supper at four, and in the niean- 
 time were either cruising round trying for " schools,^' or, if the 
 weather was bad, lying at anchor for it to clear up, or, perhaps, 
 following the fleet to some other portion of the fishing-grounds. 
 It was a pretty sight to see two or three hundred sail getting 
 under way in the morning twilight, each one trying to get off 
 before his neighbor, heaving at the windlass as noiselessly as 
 possible, that he might not disturb some sleepy skipper who 
 chanced to be at anchor along-side him; then, just as the sun 
 tinted the clouds in the eastern horizon with his beautiful yellow 
 and red and crimson, in ever-changing hue, to see the long line 
 gradually lengthen out as one by one the graceful craft spread 
 their Avhite Avings to the light morning breeze. All day we 
 fished, or cruised, or lay about the deck smoking in indolence, 
 till the sun gilded the western sky as he sank behind the distant 
 hills, or dipped his bright disc beneath the waters, bathing old 
 ocean with his floods of glorious light. Then we sought again 
 the quiet harbor to chat awhile on deck, or board some friend in 
 the fleet. 
 
 But space fails me to describe the cruise around Prince 
 Edward's Island, the generous hospitality of its Scotch farmers, 
 the oddities and contrasts which Georgetown presents when 
 compared with a New England village, the dance up at Yankee 
 Cove, our trip up into the Gulf, and the Dead Man's Isle, the 
 pleasant hours passed in listening to the yarns of whaling voyages 
 or West India cruises, which I repaid by recounting the various 
 incidents of college life and its peculiarities, the lazy quiet smoke 
 in our bunks while the vessel rolled soothingly at anchor, our 
 tramps on shore, the tricks we played upon each other, and how 
 we were tossed about at night when the sea was angry and put 
 the " Old Joe " right upon her " rockers," our trip home along 
 
110 THOR, THE HERO-GOD OF SCANDINAVIAN MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 the coast of Maine, and how good those low sand hills of Cape 
 Cod looked when we saw them again, two days after Commence- 
 ment at Brown had passed, — of all this I can say nothing more. 
 I can only add that 1 was welcomed back to college, tanned to the 
 color of a nmlatto, and with fifteen pounds of flesh additional in 
 seven weeks and a half from home, and if any one wants to 
 enjoy a summer, let him take a trip mackereling along with 
 Capt. B., in the " Old Rocking Horse." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 THOR, THE HERO-GOD OF SCANDINAVIAN MYTHOLOGY. 
 
 Of all the heroes and gods of the Scandinavian mythology, 
 Thor, the Thunder-God, is the noblest and the strongest personi- 
 fication of the vigorous, robust character of the ancient Norse- 
 men. Girt with his wondrous belt of strength, armed with his 
 iron gauntlets, he smote with his terrible hammer, — that never 
 missed its aim, and ever returned to his hand, — the giants that 
 unceasingly waged war against gods and men. Thor, as the 
 powerful God of thunder, seems to represent the irresistible, 
 inscrutable force of Nature. His dreaded hammer is the thun- 
 der-bolt that, descending upon the gigantic mountain tops, parts 
 asunder the dark frost-clouds, and drives away the chilly mists 
 that hide the genial sun. His power, too, is seen when the ice- 
 bergs, those towering frost-giants of the North, melt beneath the 
 fervent heat of summer, just as it is when their crystal cliffs are 
 shivered by his lightning-hammer, when their whole transparent 
 structure, from lowest base to loftiest summit, trembles at the 
 sound of his thunder-voice. Wherever the active forces of 
 Nature contend with the silent frosts that bind the Arctic regions 
 with eternal chains of ice, there Thor fights, hammer in hand, 
 against the demon Loki and his dark bands of giants. 
 
 The heroic attributes ascribed to Thor by his ancient North- 
 men worshippers, give us an insight into their own physical and 
 intellectual traits of character, and we may truly believe that 
 the Scandinavian Thunderer is but the image of the valorous 
 Norsemen of old, exalted and magnified to superhuman, god-like 
 proportions. Possessed, like him, of a powerful and command- 
 ing frame, and of a stern soul, that, like his, knew no fear, the 
 
THE STUDY OF NATURAL HISTORY IN COLLEGE. Ill 
 
 hardy Norseman fought witli the savage animals that disputed 
 with him the possession of those dreary wastes, and battled with 
 the keen, icy blasts of the long northern winter. Tiie Norse 
 mind, of that vigorous Gothic cast which manifests itself alike in 
 the bold strength of its intellect, and in the quaint grandeur of 
 its imagination, mirrors itself in the conception of the god Thor, 
 its greatest and most characteristic production. It was, indeed, 
 a sort of intellectual Thor, that hurled so long ago, with pro- 
 phetic foresight, its strong thought far into the future history of 
 the Gothic race. It has persisted with true northern vigor, for 
 many centuries, among many races, and even at this day its 
 influence is visible in the pages of our learning and science. 
 When the astronomer gazes oflF from this little globe, and strives 
 to measure the immense void that lies between us and the remote 
 planets, he is like Thor drinking from the magic horn of Skyr- 
 mir, and causing the bottomless sea to ebb. When the chemist 
 lifts the corner of the vail that hides the secrets of nature from 
 our eves, he reminds us of Thor striving to dras from its dark 
 depths the great Midgard monster, and raising it a little way 
 from its ocean bed. When the pliilologist traces back his Ian" 
 guage to tongues spoken thousands of years ago, he is like Thor 
 wrestling with some success with the old woman Age, before 
 whom none can stand, who alone endures, while all things else 
 pass away. W^herever knowledge contends with ignorance, 
 wisdom with folly, or light with darkness, there our fancy can 
 discern the bright form of Thor, the Thunderer, as he stands 
 amid the rugged rocks of Scandinavia, shattering with his ham- 
 mer the huge glaciers and gigantic icebergs of the North, and 
 with his voice dispelling the storm-clouds and frost-fogs that 
 whirl with their wintry darkness around his lofty head. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 THE STUDY OF NATURAL HISTORY IN COLLEGE. 
 
 A college gives the highest kind of preparatory instruction. 
 For professional culture we must look to other schools. An ed- 
 ucation to serve as the foundation of any superstructure what- 
 ever must necessarily be solid and extensive. No single faculty 
 
112 THE STUDY OF NATURAL HISTORY IN COLLEGE. 
 
 of the mind must be developed at the expense of any other, but 
 tlie whole moral and intellectual being must be trained into a 
 well rounded and systematical form. To accomplish this, tlie 
 academic course must have completeness ; and especially should 
 it include those studies which cultivate the powers of observa- 
 tion, generalization, and combination, since these attributes more 
 than the mere reasoning faculty contribute to success in every 
 department of mental effort. The study of nature gives just 
 this kind of culture. For the world in which we live is not an 
 assemblage of conflicting and jarring interests, but a combina- 
 tion of harmonious and mutually dependent relations ; and he 
 who would study these relations as they are expressed in mate- 
 rial forms, is not driven to the task of examining and arranging 
 the disorderly accumulations of some old store house, but is 
 placed in a gigantic museum where the representatives of all 
 kingdoms, divisions, and classes have been arranged by Divine 
 Wisdom, and where he has not to decide where this or that 
 specimen belongs, so much as to see the characters that connect 
 it with other specimens ; the traits that unite these with others, 
 the more abstract affinities that link one great group to another, 
 and so on till he comprehends the harmony that binds the count- 
 less individuals into a single unit. The attempt to grasp such 
 vast conceptions cultivates habits of accurate observation and of 
 broad and comprehensive thought. But it is impossible to re- 
 cognize the order and grandeur of this systematic arrangement, 
 and fail to discern the evidences of the existence and character 
 of a Supreme Being who planned and devised it. Says an emi- 
 nent philosopher of our day, " It is only as it contemplates, at 
 the same time, matter and mind, that Natural History rises to 
 its true character and dignity, and leads to its worthiest end, by 
 indicating to us, in Creation, the execution of a plan fully ma- 
 tured in the beginning, and undeviatingl}' pursued; the work of 
 a God infinitely wise, regulating Nature according to immutable 
 laws, which He has himself imposed on her." 
 
 We soon begin to imitate what we admire ; and he who has 
 gained an intimate knowledge of Nature's laws must show their 
 influence in his life and character. How many eminent men 
 could be mentioned who have thus practically confirmed Cicero's 
 theory that men were created, " ut essent qui caelestium ordinem 
 
THE STUDY OF NATURAL HISTORY IN COLLIGE. 113 
 
 contemplantes imitarentur eum vitse modo atqne constantia ;" 
 and whose conduct seems ever to liave been regulated by the 
 motto which Linnasus inscribed over the door of his room, 
 
 " Innocue vivito — Numen adest." 
 
 But Natural History is of value for the knowledge it imparts, 
 as well as for the discipline it insures. He who has learned' to 
 read the book " written," as Lord Bacon so aptly puts it, " in 
 the only language that hath gone forth to the ends of the Avorld 
 unaffected by the confusion of Babel," has gained a treasure of 
 useful information that will increase with advancing years, and 
 a sympathy with nature that lends a charm to every ramble, and 
 makes the eilent woods and barren rocks eloquent Avith voices 
 that address the nobler attributes of his being. 
 
 It is a source of regret that so few American colleges give 
 this instruction, and that among the educated minds of our day 
 there is such a criminal indifference to the truths and beauties of 
 nature. Would not this moral apathy in great part be prevented 
 if Natural History was elevated to its true position in our system 
 of education ? 
 
 " For many years," says Thomas Carlyle, " it has been one 
 of my constant regrets, that no schoolmaster of mine had a 
 knowledge of natural history, so far at least as to have taught 
 me the grasses that grow by the wayside, and the little winged 
 and wingless neighbors that are continually meeting me, with a 
 salutation which I cannot answer, as things are ! Why didn't 
 somebody teach me the constellations, too, and make me at home 
 in the starry heavens, which are always overhead, and which I 
 don't half know to this day? I love to prophesy that there Avill 
 come- a time, when not in Edinburgh only, but in all Scottish 
 and European towns and villages, the schoolmaster will be 
 strictly required to possess these two capabilities (neither Greek 
 nor Latin more strict!) and that no ingenuous little denizen of 
 this universe be thenceforward debarred from his right of liberty 
 in these two departments, and doomed to look on them as if 
 across grated fences all his life !" 
 
 The most apt illustrations, the fittest figures, the best meta- 
 phors that ever graced the diction of the pulpit, the bar, or the 
 halls of legislation were drawn from the realm of nature. If 
 
 5 
 
114 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 the college course shapes the thoaght and gives character to all 
 after culture, surely it should not neglect a study so essential to 
 the orator, author and teacher. It is a noticeable fact that those 
 studies which store the mind with gems of truth are the ones 
 that do most to awaken independent thought and lead to habits 
 of correct investigation. The principles of Political Economy 
 and the teachings of History, for example, awaken a deep inter- 
 est in present issues, and the student's mind is almost uncon- 
 sciously led into the investigation of the financial and political 
 problems which agitate the times. The influence of such prac- 
 tical studies will extend througliout his whole life ; and long 
 after he has forgotten the majesty of Homer, and the wit of 
 Horace, when the eloquence of Demosthenes, and the earnest 
 words of Cicero have ceased to charm his ear, when the busy, 
 cares of life have driven from his mind the philosophy of the 
 Greeks, and perchance only a sti'ay fragment of Tacitus lingers 
 in his memory ; when all these and many more have passed 
 from his mind, he finds himself returning again and again to the 
 first principles of these practical studies. Every day brings 
 fresh testimonials of their value ; and among them all there is 
 not one more charming as a study, more valuable as a means of 
 culture, or more lasting in its influence, than Natural History. 
 It will be a constant reminder of his college life ; and with every 
 recurring season will come pleasant associations of bygone days. 
 In view, then, of its merits as a means of discipline, as well as 
 its intrinsic worth, does not Natural History deserve a high place 
 in the college curriculum ? 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 BROWN. 
 
 Class Day Class day at Brown was inaugurated in the early part of Dr. 
 
 Sears' administration by the class of of '56. It was desired by. the students 
 in order that thereby their literary advantages might be increased, and op- 
 portunity given to collect their friends and jiresent them some evidences of 
 their mental training and culture. The plan was seconded by the faculty, and 
 every encouragement offered to make it in its literary character a " high day," 
 
COLLEGIAN A. 115 
 
 one upon which, the bright side of the class should he presented — one upon 
 ■which the college muses (not the college " nine" however,) her youthful Cice- 
 ros and Pythian goddesses in disguise should hold carnival — a daj^ freed from 
 the tedium and mediocrity of Commencement, and replete with the choicest 
 and most finished cfiEorts the students could present. 
 
 Richard Olney was the first Orator, and Francis W. White the first Poet. 
 In '58, S. T. Harris, of Cinncinnati, Ohio, delivered the oration, and John M. 
 Hay, afterwards private secretary of President Lincoln, the poem. These are 
 the earliest printed exercises to be found in the University library. Both 
 were regarded as of the highest and most satisfactory character. The 
 literary reputation of the speakers was, as far as such exercises could do it, 
 established in a most flattering manner. So highly was the poem esteemed, 
 that Major Hay, during the war, was inA'ited by the college to deliver a poem 
 at Commencement dinner — an invitation accepted, though the Major could 
 not be present to read the poem he had prepared. Succeeding classes have 
 presented similar programmes, with varying success — each class striving to 
 add something new and more attractive than the preceding. 
 
 The unusually active reporters of the city papers have already presented the 
 public with such complete and satisfactory accounts of Class Day of '68, that 
 little remains to be said. The Com. of Arr. seem to have left very little room 
 to future classes for improvement in programmes and invitations ; the former 
 might properly bo styled unique. With a thoughtful appreciation of the 
 wants of the inner man, and a full response to the promptings of his 
 generosity, E. W. JSIason provided all his classmates with a splendid breakfast 
 at his residence. It was served by Humphrey in his most approved style, and 
 was, to use one of the terms applied by a member of the " Fat Ups," (a relia- 
 ble judge of course) " the hottest old spread you ever saw." The American 
 Brass Band came to assist as usual in the exercises of the day, but from criti- 
 cisms we have heard, they did not display such interest or excellence as thej' 
 have usually shown, or such as is available from other cities with little or no 
 additional expense. The entrance to Manning Hall was lined on either side 
 with interested lookers on, as country meeting-house doors are wont to be 
 lined on Sabbath day. Perhaps custom has made the breach of good raanneru 
 here perfectly excusable, yet the aforesaid in many cases betrayed, we think 
 our visitors might say, rather more curiosity than g-ood breeding. The ladies, 
 however, ran the gauntlet in the most unflinching manner, and came in large 
 numbers to do us honor bj' their presence and approval. Chief Marshal G. M, 
 Smith brought up the procession from li. I. Hall in elegant military style. 
 
 The introductory remarks of the President of the Class, John M. Daggett, 
 were delivered in a very happy manner. Greetings, allusions, acknowledge- 
 ments, statistics, regrets, and purposes were tersely and fittingly presented. 
 The orator, Benjamin Cook, Jr., upon introduction, spoke upon " The False 
 Glory of War." His delivery was very graceful, his enunciation distinct, and 
 while there was no brilliancy of thought or fervidness of utterance to electrify 
 or arouse the audience, the oration was well received and listened to with 
 much interest. The subject was brought out a little late, and then rather ob- 
 scurely . Perhaps there was a lack of clearness in the statement of the several 
 propositions adduced as proofs of the subject, and chance for a critical remark 
 also upon the thrice repeated reference to that very indefinite personage, "the 
 
116 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 poet," a selection from one of whom was not very elegant. " College Partings" 
 was the subject of the poem delivered by William E. Lincoln. A pleasing 
 production was expected by the audience, and they were not disappointed. 
 The plan was very simple, the pictures of home and college life vividly drawn, 
 the illustrations ver}^ choice, the allusions happy, and the versification musical 
 and pleasing. No great depth of thought was reached or attempted. The de- 
 livery was well suited to the sentiment and gentle flow of the verse, and gained 
 attentive listeners. 
 
 President Caswell inaugurated his college receptions in the " Presidential 
 mansion" with good omens of kindness, cordialit}', and substantial collations. 
 The Promenade Concert in R. I. Hall was upon the old plan with the excep- 
 tion of dancing, which, hitherto forbidden, was now introduced quite unex- 
 pectedly by certain ones weary of the "old ways our fathers trod," and possi- 
 bly desirous of displaying the skill acquired by last winter's drill. Whether 
 the innovation will be tolerated is perhaps problematical. 
 
 Class tree exercises were excellent, aiid strikingly in contrast with the halt- 
 ing, fizzling stj'le of last year. George R. Chase, in a neat speech, written and 
 delivered in a pleasing and forcible manner, began the series of addresses. He 
 was followed by Sabin T. Goodell, elected to fill the place of Mr. Stoddard, 
 absent on account of illness. His remarks too, were well chosen, and well 
 presented. James Scaramon's address to the undergraduates was, we are 
 sure, much above the usual standard of such speeches. He made some capi- 
 tal " hits " and " rubs," and gave a conclusion eloquent both in noble thought 
 and forcible deliver j-. The remarks of President Caswell and Prof. Chase 
 were characteristic, full of thought, kindness and interest. The elm was then 
 treated to its shovel full of dirt by each man; then the class hymn, a very neat 
 one in latin, composed and set to music by the poet of the class sung, and the 
 company retired to the campus to listen to the usual free concert back of the 
 library, where a few presented their favorite songs. 
 
 The campus was crowded, more than should hereafter be .allowed, during 
 the evening, by lovers of music and other accomplishments. In the " check- 
 ered shade," the circling groups made their way along the walks and over the 
 lawns, to the sound of pleasant music, till past nine, when class '68 called for 
 its escort, and thus dispersed the throng. The procession was formed very 
 quietly, compared with previous years, and in true stj'le delivered its charge 
 to the tender mercies of Mr. Grisvvold of the Manton House. Here, with 
 'soups" and "raws" and "rares," and "fried in crumbs," and "jams and "jel- 
 lies," and "wines," and "toasts," and "jokes," &c., the class passed the night. 
 The history was given by L. 0. Rockwood, the prophesy by G. W. Edwards, 
 the ode by C. H. Smart, each very satisfactory. Much additional interest 
 would be given if the history and prophecy of future classes could be presented 
 to the public. What are the objections ? They used to be given here, and are 
 still given in other colleges. The next morning was made hideous, as expected, 
 by a most untimely garne of base ball on the campus, to the great disgust of 
 all unsj'mpathizing sleepers. The class was fresh and blooming at prayers, 
 and more fully represented than before during the course, only two absent. 
 To trace their history further would be immodest, and here we leave them, 
 congratulating '68 upon its pleasant class day. 
 
* COLLEGIANA. 117 
 
 Missionary Sociicty of Inquiry. — The object of this societj', as its name 
 indicates, is to present means for a more extended knowledge of the Missionarj'' 
 work and to awaken a more lively interest in its prosperity. During the past 
 year, we are happy to say, the Society has made decided progress in this 
 direction. Nearly all of the Baptist Missions have in turn been taken up by 
 some one appointed bj' the President, and essays presented, or verbal reports 
 given, stating their origin and progress; a work which has been both enter- 
 taining and profitable. In addition to this, they have raised among them- 
 selves fifty dollars for the Foreign Missionary Union. May not the question 
 present itself to every student, wh-ether it is not a duty which he owes to him- 
 self and Christianity, to improve these opportunities for gaining a more 
 extended knowledge of Missions, and for enlisting more thoroughly his sym- 
 pathies in the cause for life ? 
 
 The annual sermon will be delivered by Rev. Henry G. Weston, D. D., 
 President of Urozer Theological Seminary, on Tuesday evening of Commence- 
 ment week. We hope that this will be remembered by the students, espe- 
 cially by those who are members of the society, so that there may be a large 
 representation from the College. 
 
 The officers elected for the following year are 
 A. M. Crane, President- 
 1. K. Wheelock, Vice President. 
 T. G. Field, Corresponding Secretary. 
 W. II. Fish, Eecording Secretary and Treasurer. 
 
 D. P. Morgan, ~j 
 
 E. B. Andrews, > Executive Committee. 
 W. F. Mustin, J 
 
 Base Ball. — Since our last number increased interest in Base Ball has 
 been manifested. This interest has been confined mainly to the Sophomore and 
 Freshman classes. The annual match game between the Nines of these classes 
 'was played June 10th. The game was called at the close of the seventh in- 
 nings with the following result; Sophomores, 36; Freshmen, 10. The repu- 
 tation of the Sophomore Nine does not seem to be confined to the vicinity of 
 the University, for its challenges to the Sophomore Nines of Amherst and 
 Harvard, and to other outside clubs, have not been accepted. The Nine have 
 been enabled, however, to cope with adversaries worthy of their best skill, and 
 to evince most gratifying results of the thoroughness of their indoor practice 
 during the winter, and constant playing during the spring. A match had been 
 arranged between the Lowell Club, of Boston, and the University Nine. But 
 as the organization of the University Nine was not satisfactorily perfected at 
 the time appointed for the match, it was decided that the Sophomore Nine 
 should play with the Lowells. The game was played June 17th, on Dex- 
 ter Training Ground, and was witnessed by a very large assemblage. The 
 Lowells, flushed with the uniform success which had attended them thus far 
 during the tour which they had been making, entered the contest with the 
 greatest confidence, but being met by good play at all points, they concentra- 
 ted all their energies to the work before them. "Brown" led from the start, 
 and, after a closely contested game were successful. In view of the import- 
 ance of this, game, we think that we are justified in appending the score : 
 
118 
 
 COLLEGIAN A. 
 
 Munro, c. . 
 Taylor, 3. 
 Matteson, 1. 
 Bowker, 2. 
 Fales, L 
 Grant, s. . 
 Hitchcock, r. 
 Herreshoff, p. 
 Colwell, m. 
 
 o. 
 3 
 4 
 1 
 
 1 
 6 
 3 
 5 
 4 
 
 27 2i 
 
 Lovett, p. 
 Joslin, 3. 
 Roger a, m. 
 Sumner, 2. 
 Jewell; 1. 
 Alline, r. 
 Bradbury, 
 Newton, 1. 
 Wilder, s. 
 
 2 
 3 
 2 
 3 
 2 
 1 
 2 
 2 
 2 
 
 19 
 
 Lowell, . . 
 
 Brown, . . 4 
 
 The umpire was Mr. John 
 
 27 
 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 
 
 4 3 10 4 3 4—19 
 
 5 2 1 4 2 4—22 
 
 A. Lowell, of the Lowell Club, and the scorers 
 were Mr. George E. Appleton, for the Lowell, Mr. Daniel Beckwith, for Brown. 
 Since writing the above we noticed the following in the Eeening Press : 
 
 A letter received by the " Univorsitj'' Nine " from the Lowell club, states 
 that the Lowells feel very much provoked at the article which appeared in 
 the Boston Pcsf, stating that they were "crippled" after their tour. They 
 come forward nobly and saj' that the game was fairly won by the Brown boys, 
 and speak in high terms of the kindness extended to them during their stay in 
 Providence. It is rarely that a defeat is taken so honorably, and the Brown 
 boys must congratulate themselves on the opportunity afforded them of meas- 
 uring their strength in a friendly game, with such courteous and gentlemanly 
 opponents. 
 
 Bishop Seakury Association. - — On the evening before Ascension Day, 
 Maj' 20th, the annual election of the Bishop Seabury Association, the follow- 
 ing ofi&cers were chosen for the ensuing year : 
 
 Geokoe E. Cranston, President. 
 
 Wilfred H. Munro, Vice President. 
 
 William Blodget, Secretary. 
 
 E. F. Child, Treasurer. • 
 
 On the following Sunday, the annual sermon before the Association was 
 preached in St. Stephen's Church, by the Rev. Ferdinand C. Ewer, S. T. D., 
 Rector of Christ Church, New York city. 
 
 In the absence of an anticipated article upon the new collection of college 
 songs, we insert the following from the Amherst Student : 
 
 Just published, Carmina CoUegensia, a collection of the songs of the Amer- 
 ican Colleges, with piano accompaniments. To which is added a compen- 
 dium of college history — compiled and edited bj' R. H. Wait, (Ham. Coll.) 
 This book seems to be very satisfactory. It gives the best songs from twenty- 
 one colleges, and is by far the fullest compendium of college music that was 
 ever published. It is printed in the best style, and is not expensive, for a 
 book of its character. The best style gilt-edged and on fine paper, costs $3 ; 
 another style, on paper not so good, costs $2.25. 
 
COLLEGIAlSfA. 119 
 
 Hammer and Tongs. — An enjoyaWe entertainment was given on the even- 
 ing of the 17th, by the Hammer and Tongs Society, at their hall. The exer- 
 cises were dramatic and musical. We take pleasure in recording the success 
 of this society. Just before the close of the entertainment, the President of 
 the society introduced Mr. E. K. Glezen, of the class of '66, who, in behalf of 
 the young ladies present at the ball game of the afternoon, presented to the 
 Sophomore Nine, a beautiful floral shield, as a memorial of their victory over 
 the Lowells. Ho spoke as follows : 
 Mr. Captain, and Gentlemen of the University Base Ball Club : 
 
 I have, to-night, a most pleasmt duty to perform. The task of rewarding a victor is always 
 a delightful one, especially when the victory gained is the result of tough, indomitable 
 " pluck " over an opponent flushed with the spoils of many a hard contested field. As one of 
 the Alumni of this college, I might, in their behalf, thank you for adding lustre to the name 
 of Brown University ; but a pleasanter task, even, than that, is before me. In behalf of the 
 ladies, whose presence lightened up the ball ground this afternoon, and whose encouraging 
 smiles doubtless fired all yoUr hearts — those ladies who exulted in your good " play," and 
 deplored your misfortunes — who regai-ded you, gentlemen, as their champions, and thought 
 that a victory for Bi-own was a victory for them,— I say in behalf of these fair ones, I present 
 to you this shield, on which, in Nature's, sweetest printing, is the date of the greatest victory 
 Brown has had ; and I also desire to express to you their congratulations on the happy i-esult. 
 On this shield, formed of flowers, are the letters B. U. June 17th, 1868, a day memorable in 
 the annals of this college, and to be forever marked with a white stone. Receive, then, mem- 
 bers of the ball club, this token of remembrance, and may the good wishes of the fair donors 
 ■which lie concealed in each flower, preserve it from ever spoiling by defeat. 
 
 Mr. Munro, as Captain of the Nine, made a brief and fitting replj' ; and 
 the Nine, by a rousing Brunonian cheer, returned their thanks to the fair 
 donors for the beautiful testimonial of their sympathy. 
 
 Agricultural and Scientific Department. — The Rhode Island Assembly 
 having received " in accordance with an act of Congress giving public lands 
 to the several States and Territories which may provide Colleges for the bene- 
 fit of agricultural and the mechanic arts," the sum of $5,000, has established 
 five scholarships in this University, and nominated men, citizens of this State, 
 to receive them. After Aug. 20, 1868, they will be able to establish five more. 
 Each scholarship will be worth §60. 
 
 The Plato Class, by invitation, visited their instiuctor. Prof. Albert Hark- 
 ness, at his residence on Cook street^ Saturday evening, June 20. They were 
 entertained in the most cordial and hospitable manner. Strawberries and ice 
 cream were served in abundance. Additional interest was given by the pre- 
 sence of our late President, Dr. Sears, who arrived in the city that evening, 
 and was the guest of the Professor. The occasion could not be otherwise than 
 most pleasant. 
 
 Brown Navy. — We are glad to record an increased interest in aquatics. 
 The University Boat Club has recently been reorganized, the boat house is 
 now undei'going thorough repair, and negotiations have been entered upon for 
 the purchase of a new " shell." We are confident that under the auspices of 
 the new regime, two crews at least will be under training during the fall 
 season, and the waters of the Narragansett brightened by the streamers of the 
 Brown Navy. 
 
 " Why cannot ladies walk into the College' yai'd, without being yelled at 
 from the windows, by the intelligent and gentlemanly sons of Harvard ?" 
 
 We clip the above from the H-iroard Adoocate, from which we infer that the 
 morals of our University compare very favorably with those of our sister. 
 We have no knowledge of any such complaint ever having been made about 
 the students of Brown. 
 
120 
 
 COLLEGIAN A. 
 
 The Peabody Educational Fund. — Last week Dr. Sears reported to the 
 trustees that he has, in his visit to the Southern States, heen received in a 
 most cordial manner, and hearty cooperation in his work has been evinced ; 
 the extreme poverty of the South is painfully evident, and little assistance can 
 be rendered by the people in the object for which Mv. Peabody donated the 
 fund. 
 
 It is said that not a student at Cambridge would attend the exercises recently 
 held there to confer upon our greatest poet, Henry W. Longfellow, the degree 
 of LL. D. Are our English brethren thus bigoted r* 
 
 The old First Baptist meeting house is receiving new paint from foundation 
 to spire. A like renovation is going on within. It will be completed before 
 Commencement. The cost will be, we understand, over 5p6,O0O. 
 
 Exchanges. — We have received the following exchanges : Yale Literary 
 3Iagazine, Hamilton Cnmpiis, "Williams College Vulctte, JMichigan University 
 Magazine, Harvard Jdrocate, Amherst Student, The College Argus, The Trinity 
 Tablet, College Days, College Courant, The Collegian, The Grisivold Collegian, Union 
 College Magazine, The l)artmouth. The College Courier. College Days, is the apt 
 title of the monthly issued by the students at Ripton College, Wis. The 
 contents are in every respect creditable. The Vassar Transcript, a neat piiper 
 of eight pages, has been received. We think its literary merits reflect great 
 credit on our lair sisters. The Grisivold Collegian comes to us this week for the 
 first time. It is a model of neatness in its typography, and gives us a very 
 good idea of the literary merits of the College. The Trinity Tablet, Collegian, 
 College Argus, are papers of interest, and we predict for them a successful 
 career. 
 
 HARVARD. The Oxford Boat Club have at last accepted the challenge of 
 Harvard to a race. Ihey were evidently reluctant 1o meet the Americans, 
 but all the points they raised have been yielded to them, and they can honor- 
 ably evade it no longer. — The Harvard Kine propose a Eummer trip to play 
 the prominent Nines of the country. Ihey intend bringing out some of their 
 college theatricals to lessen their personal expenses in the expedition. 
 
 YALE. The Gj^mnasium seems to be unusually well patronized at all hours 
 of the day. 'Jhe crews for the summer races are all hard at work, and the 
 cultivation of " muscle " is " above par." — The celebrated collection of paint- 
 ings, known as the Jarves collection, is at length thrown open to the public, 
 the long expected catalogue being at length published. The Gallery is open, 
 free, from 9 — 1 and from 3 — .5. All should make it a point to see these valu- 
 able relics of old masters. — The '69 Base Ball Club have refused the challenge 
 sent by the '69 Base Ball Club at Harvard, to play at Worcester next July. 
 Also the Class of '70 have declined the challenge of the Harvard '70, to row a 
 race at the time of the University regatta. — President Woolsey lately received 
 a mark of appreciation in the form of a supper given him by the Yale men of 
 Cincinnati, which passed off very pleasantly with about forty present. — The 
 Peabody Museum at Yale has received a valuable collection of fossils from 
 Squankum, N;*J. It is the gift of a gentleman in New York. — The splendid 
 trees of the " Forest City " are out in full glory, and so are the ivorms ! 
 
 WILLIAMS. The students of Williams College, Mass., celebrated the gift of 
 $75,000 by the State Legislature to that institution, with a procession, 
 speeches and songs, last Monday night. — The students of Williams are "in 
 times of peace preparing for war" by taking lessons in broadsword drill. 
 Major Beatty is the teacher and the class numbers twenty or more. 
 
 UNION. We regret that it becomes our duty to chronicle the resignation of 
 T)r. Hickok from the office of President of Union College. After a connec- 
 tion of sixteen years with the institution, over two years of which he has 
 ably and well performed the duties of the office made vacant by the death of 
 Dr. Nott, he has tendered his resignation to the Board of Trustees. — Union 
 College Magazine. 
 
roz. II. 
 
 OCTOBER, 1868. 
 
 NO. 1. 
 
 DAVID DOWNIE, 
 
 I. NELSON FORD, 
 
 EDITORS FOE, '69. 
 
 HENRY T. GRANT, Jr., 
 
 EDITOHS roil '70. 
 ORLO B. RHODES, 
 
 FRANK LAWTON, Jr. 
 
 ALONZO WILLIAMS. 
 
 MILTON'S TRAVELS IN ITALY. 
 
 As the sunbeams falling on Memnon's statue called forth music 
 from its stony breast, so the glowing skies and bright sunshine 
 of Italy awaken the genius and kindle the imagination of the 
 poet. 
 
 Milton started for the Continent in 1638, soon after his 
 mother's death, which deprived his rural home at Horton of its 
 greatest charm, "and passed through Paris, Genoa and Pisa, to 
 Florence. 
 
 The golden dream of his youth was now a reality. He was 
 in the land of stor}^ and of song, in the midst of the scenes that 
 had nourished the genius of the great poets whom he loved. 
 
 All that is lovely in nature or grand in historic association 
 was spread before his eyes to recall the images of poetry and 
 the tales of romance which had delighted him in his earlier days. 
 
 From the leaning tower of Pisa he could look out upon the 
 blue waters of the Tuscan sea glistening in the sunshine, and 
 could watch the snow-white clouds rolling above them in the 
 same serene heaven to which Palinurus trusted too much when 
 the dream god beguiled him. 
 
 He wandered with fond deliffht 
 
2 Milton's travels in italy. 
 
 " Along the banks where smiling Arno sweeps," 
 
 and lingered with a dreamer's eye and a poet's fancies among 
 
 "Fiesole's green hills and vales, 
 Eemembered for Boccacio's sake." 
 
 The old legends of Italian romance had peopled every vale 
 and grotto with fairies and ''rustic gods," whom the poets visited 
 and to whom' they were indebted for their inspiration; and 
 though the gods no longer dwelt on 'earth as in the days of 
 Numa, the fanciful and superstitious Italians loved to think that 
 " some gentle spirit " still hovered over the haunts of genius, 
 investing them with peculiar interest and awe. 
 
 With what rapture must Milton have roamed along the classic 
 Arno as it winds among the vine-clad hills, where 
 
 " Florence, beneath the sun, 
 Of cities fairest one, 
 Blushes within her bower." 
 
 " The City of Flowers " was full of interest to the young 
 poet. She had always been celebrated as " the fairest and most 
 renowned daughter of Rome." Her name awakened the most 
 sacred associations and memories. 
 
 Here Dante had passed his youth and from her gates had gone 
 forth an exile. Here Boccacio had expounded the Divina Com- 
 media. Two centuries before, Lorenzo de Medici had gathered 
 around him a band of philosophers and poets, and had made 
 her the centre of all that was refined in literature and art. 
 From her heights the " starry Galileo "' had read the " poetry of 
 heaven." 
 
 The cool retreats where Dante had lingered in his hours of 
 sadness, the murmuring waters, the soft twilight, and, above all, 
 the solemn stillness of Santa Croce, consecrated by the ashes of 
 genius, must have had a great influence on the imagination of 
 such a mind as Milton's. 
 
 Even then Florence was the haunt of scholars and of poets. 
 The learning of centuries and the quiet beauty of her scenery 
 invited them to her "bower." 
 
 Milton was at once admitted to the private academies founded 
 
Milton's TEAVELS m italy. 3 
 
 by the Medici, and won the admiration and esteem of men of 
 the brightest genius and highest culture. 
 
 Before he left the city he visited Galileo, who was then old 
 and blind, and suffering in prison, a victim of the Inquisition. 
 It must have been a touching picture — Milton in the vigor of 
 manhood, courted and honored, standing in the presence of Gal- 
 ileo old and blind and friendless ! 
 
 "Little then 
 Did Galileo think whom he received ; 
 That in his hand he held the hand of one 
 Who could requite him — who would spread his name 
 O'er land and seas — great as himself, nay, greater;" 
 
 and Milton little thought that he too would soon be blind, de- 
 serted, and '-'from the pleasant ways of men cut off"." 
 
 He went from Florence to Rome where there was still more 
 to excite his love for what was grand and sublime. He 
 remained here for two months, gratifying his love for music, 
 feasting his eyes on rich paintings and sculptures, and gathering 
 amid 
 
 "Ruined shrines and towers that. seem 
 The relics of some splendid dream," 
 
 a wealth of classical thoughts and images which afterwards took 
 shape in Paradise Lost. 
 
 From Rome he went to Naples where he was entertained by 
 Manso the old friend and biographer of Tasso. 
 
 From him he learned the story of the poet's life, his imprison- 
 ment, his woes, his madness. 
 
 From the gardens of Manso he could look out upon the broad 
 Bay of Naples, and could see beyond it Vesuvius with its cloudy 
 summit, and the misty ranges of the Apennines. 
 
 On the heights of Posilippo he could linger by the tomb of 
 Yirgil and 
 
 " Gaze on his laurelled hrow with fancy's eye 
 And hear his harp amid the ruins sigh." 
 
 The same glorious beauties that nourished the genius of the 
 Mantuan bard were spread out before the eyes of the young 
 poet, and, in addition to all these, the 
 
4 Milton's travels in italy. 
 
 " Fallen towers, crushed temples, villas 'neath the deep 
 And scattered torahs where bards and heroes sleep." 
 
 It is not strange that amid all these associations he should 
 have been filled with joy in anticipation of the time when he 
 should " take up the harp and sing an elaborate song to genera- 
 tions." 
 
 Prom Naples he returned to Rome where he remained two 
 months and where he did not hesitate to express his I'epublican 
 sentiments which he was too honest to conceal. At Florence 
 he again remained two months, and then crossed the Apennines 
 to Venice. 
 
 The Queen of the Adriatic, " bathing her feet in the sea," was 
 the city of luxury and splendor ; and it is the strongest proof 
 of Milton's virtue that he remained here only a month while he 
 spetit four months in literary Florence. 
 
 From Venice he went through Milan and along the shores of 
 Lake Leman to Geneva. 
 
 He remained here a few months in the society of scholars 
 whose lives were spent in the Master's service, and a portion of 
 their zeal and enthusiasm was, undoubtedly, imparted to the 
 young poet, who, in one of his early sonnets, had consecrated 
 his life to the service of his "great Taskmaster." 
 
 After an absence of fifteen months he returned to his own 
 country at that age when a man's character and sentiments are. 
 generally formed for life. . 
 
 A sincere christian, a stern republican, a true, poet, Milton 
 entered the battle of life with all the qualifications necessary to 
 enable him to win success and renown for himself, and for his 
 country. 
 
 The poetry of every age and the learning of every land was 
 feeding the flame of his own genius. 
 
 In the words of Reed — " There was no rash precipitancy, no 
 forwardness of a misjudging ambition ; but a reserve and dig- 
 nity in which the voice of his genius seemed to be whispering 
 that his hour was not yet come." 
 
A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 
 
 A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 
 
 The other night the Quadrilateral had a midnight orgie at 
 my headrquarters. 
 
 You must know that we four Quads hadn't seen one another 
 since Commencement Day, '60, when we had exchanged the 
 Quadrilateral grip under the shadow of the Old First, and had 
 parted in silence. Eight years had drifted Ijy, and never a 
 word had I heard of my fellow Quads. But here we are again ! 
 The magic bond of the Quadrilateral had defied the twin ogres 
 Time and Space. We stood together and we said "Eight 
 years ! " How had this hiatus been filled ? With stern tragedy 
 or with light comedy ? Had the years brought with them no 
 pain, but only fulness and peace ? Had qur lives been deepened 
 by bitter experience ? 
 
 The roll was called at nine. We all answered Adsum — 
 Capt. Jack, Charlie Crayon, Max, and your humble contributor. 
 The boys had made a sudden raid upon my quarters, but I did 
 my best to make them comfortable. When I say that old 
 Shrewsbury was the caterer, you are assured that the spread 
 was a stylish one. I brought out the old Quadrilateral patera, 
 suyplex Campania, to be sure, but capacious, well scoured, rich 
 in historic suggestiveness. I arranged the chairs in the ancient 
 quadrangle. I had Capt. Jack distill one of those prime 
 Jamaicas, which we used to have on Quadrilateral nights, and 
 we all vowed that nothing had so tickled our palates since the 
 days of yore. 
 
 The first toast was The Quadrilateral, and we jingled our 
 glasses in the same devil-may-care way that we used. We tried 
 to sing " Lauriger," but the last line 
 
 " Eixae pax et oscula, 
 Eubentiii puollae," 
 
 choked us all. Huskiness became prevalent. We manifested 
 all the nervousness of debutantes, and yet we used to round off 
 that chorus famously, when over our wassail bowls, in orgies 
 wild as those of the Mousquetaires, we theorized on feminine 
 psychology. 
 
6 A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 
 
 Then feeding our pipes with fragrant fuel, and taking our mix- 
 ture lovingly, we fell .to talking about the old time and the new. 
 Great Babel, how we gabbled ! Babbling Rumor, had she been 
 there, would have been content to whisper 
 
 " Let Silence, like a poultice come, 
 To heal the hlows of sound." 
 
 But underneath all our talk lay a stratum of reserve. Of 
 our college days and of our present manhood we spoke freely, 
 but of the interregnum of eight years, not a word was said. 
 There seemed to be a tacit understanding not to trespass upon 
 this ground. The years since the bright college days might 
 have been crowded full of bitter experience. We respected 
 possible wounds. Even sympathy had no right to renew possi- 
 ble distress. How cQuld we sing together the Reaper's Song, 
 when possibly we had harvested only apples of Sodom ? We 
 had parted with happy memories — we should have met in 
 merrier mood. There was a ghoul at the orgie — a hete noir 
 which none of us could exorcise. 
 
 At last Capt. Jack's ringing tones smote our several tympa- 
 nums. " Order ! Fellow Quads ! Order ! Secretary please read 
 the Constitution !" 
 
 The constitution of the Quadrilateral was not a formidable 
 document. Charlie recited it from memory : 
 
 "At every session of the Quadrilateral, each Quad shall 
 recount his latest exploits, and shall exhibit a photograph of his 
 most recent sweet-heart." 
 
 The Captain spoke : 
 
 "The Great Spirit permits us, my braves, to smoke together 
 the pipe of peace. We have fought apart on distant hunting 
 grounds. Let us don our paint, sound our war-whoop and fol- 
 low the trail. Metaphor apart, as we are to hear the history 
 of eight years in the heroic lives of each of the four Quads here 
 assembled, our autobiographies can't be aired too early in the 
 evening." 
 
 We assented and gave the Captain the floor. 
 
 He had had no end of adventures. He had put a girdle round 
 the earth at a gait, which if inferior to the tricksy Puck's, was 
 at least Dexter-ish. He had been all but scalped by.the Sioux, 
 
A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. I 
 
 he had kissed the Moorish Caaba, he had been swindled by 
 camel drivers, and smothered by Siberian sledgers. In '62, he 
 was among the Boys in Blue. How the old boy's eye snapped 
 as in his graphic way, he described the marches, the retreats, the 
 battles, the starry bivouacs, and all that ! How I envied him 
 his heroic experience ! While his had been the larger life of 
 glorious Rome, mine had oozed and trickled away lazily amid 
 the traffic of penny-loving and counter-jumping Carthage. 
 
 As the. Captain was lingering over his army life. Max spurred 
 him on by asking — " What did you do, Jack, when the regiment 
 was discharged ?" 
 
 The Captain, voluble enough hitherto, now stuttered badly. 
 "I went to China," he finally drawled out, "for my health! 
 Consumptive tendencies, you know !" ( Incredulity sat en- 
 throned on every face. A healthier looking man never had 
 his feet under my mahogany.) "So I speculated in Hyson, 
 took cobblers with the Tycoon, flirted with the Chinese Small- 
 feet of the maiden gender, and so on." 
 
 Charlie Crayon next took an innings. Charlie was a born 
 artist, you must know. His mathematical designs on Tutor 
 Cypher's black-board always had an artistic finisji, an architec- 
 tural symmetry, and as for caricatures, you ought to have seen 
 that portrait of old Prof Syllogism, that day when the boys — 
 revenons a nos moutons ! Charlie had been in Europe eight years. 
 He had been copying in the Louvre, he had sketched the Coli- 
 seum, he had seen the Sistine Madonna, he had floated up the 
 Bosphorus, he had lived among the Tyrolese. His brain was 
 packed full of images of the Past. With fairy visions and tender 
 voices on every side, he had learned the higher significance of 
 Art ; he had learned to give shape to holy dreams and spiritual 
 ideals. • • 
 
 " No affaires de coeur ?^' 1 asked. 
 
 "Merely a flesh wound." 
 
 Then it was my turn. I hadn't much to tell the fellows. 'My 
 life had been terribly dull with hard, distasteful work. I had 
 been driving a quill to keep my two orphan sisters in respect- 
 able millinery. All the romance had been ground out of me. 
 Is book-keeping the chief end of man ? It certainly was not the 
 sunny future to which my eyes had turned in my early days. 
 
8 A POUR SIDED ROMANCE. 
 
 We ha,d now all over-hauled our logs, except Max. So we 
 loaded our pipes to the muzzle and waited patientl}^ for him to 
 spin his yarn. I had noticed that he had been very quiet, occa- 
 sionally asking Ganymede (Shrewsbury's small boy did the 
 G-anymede for us,) to bring out the Four-year-old from the Sabine 
 jar, and smoking like a spiteful steam tug, but not vouchsafing 
 many comments on our talk. But he always was a queer fellow. 
 No one ever knew how to take Max. At last he began : 
 
 '- Now, fellows, you've all heard the Constitution. We are not 
 only required to count the scalps taken on the trail, but also to 
 exhibit vignettes of our squaws and papooses. Anna et amores! 
 Our loves — which w^e in our sappy days thought must run 
 smoothly ! When you fellows have made a clean breast of it, 
 I'll explain to you the hydrostatic phenomena of my amores.''^ 
 
 The opposition organized. We all protested. "We had n't 
 had any love affairs — Heaven, no ! Were we not comfortable in 
 Bachelor dom? We were not so infatuated — he might be — 
 but—" 
 
 ^'' Hold !" cries Max. " Why wast thou, Mirror of Chivalry, 
 packed off to China ? Why didst thou, Prge Raphgelite, talk so 
 tenderly of that Tyrolese peasant girl, — that capital model for 
 a Madonna ? Why didst thou, model Thaliarchus, curse so 
 terribly the Roman Catholic Church ? Answer, all !" 
 
 We were cornered. The Captain first lioisted signals of dis- 
 tress. " Well, Max, I'll confess." 
 
 He handed us a photograph which we examined curiously. 
 
 Max said — >*' It reminds me of a painting of a Norse sorceress 
 luring men on to death. She is beautiful, Jack, but was she not 
 disloyal?" 
 
 No indignant protest was made. Years ago had a Quad 
 hinted at woman's disloyalty, three lusty Bayards would have 
 thrown down the gauntlet, and the tenderest sympathy would 
 have been expressed for the insulted sisterhood of woman. 
 Ah, that was in the days of our ideal knight errantry, — when 
 everything was couleur de rose. What had chilled our enthusi- 
 asm ? Naught but Sin — Sin that taints the purest. 
 
 <'you are right!" said the Captain. "I loved Circe— yet 
 was she fair." 
 
A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 9 
 
 There was a tenderness about the old hero's eye as he said 
 this, but this soon deepened into a hard, revengeful look. I like 
 not to tell his story. In our college days he was facile princeps 
 at "Brown." The finer forces of his nature created a kind of 
 personal magnetism. He was like Sidney — brave, chivalrous, 
 poetic. After he was graduated he drifted passively with the 
 tide. His role in life's drama had not been assigned. He 
 needed an influence from without which should call him to his 
 life's work. At length it came. It was Circe. He was no 
 longer drift-wood on life's main. His life was now shaped by a 
 guiding purpose. He must live for Circe, follow her, die for 
 her, if need be. He was blind. She spake the word, and he 
 left his father's house with his father's curse. He laid his heart 
 , at her feet and she did but trample on it. Circe was ambitious. 
 She wished, like Aspasia, to have generals and statesmen at 
 her feet. " G-o, my Hector," said Circe, "win laurels on the 
 battle-field. I am no whining Andromache, but a true Spartan 
 woman." The Captain for four dreary years fought for glory. 
 He came back at last to lay his laurels at the feet of love ; but 
 Circe had fled, leaving behind proofs that the kiss, the smile, the 
 love, which he had thought his own were cheap things, which all 
 the world had shared. The Captain was a strong man — but 
 Sin weakens the strongest ! His hopes and faith withered forever 
 and his love congealed to hatred. He became Nemesis. His 
 was 
 
 " The patient search and vigil long 
 Of him who treasures up a wrong." 
 
 Two years he followed her like a bloodhound. He hunted her 
 down at last, but there was the old loveliness, the old fascination. 
 He cursed her and went his way. The habit of travelling had 
 grown upon him. He continued his nomadic life and had only 
 recently outgrown Ishmael. 
 
 Such was the Captain's tale. We sat in silence, brooding 
 over the perfidy which had embittered and empoisoned the 
 Captain's life. At last Max turned upon Charlie. 
 
 " Rise from thy rose leaves, son of Sybaris, and tell of thy 
 love for a rosy cloud." 
 
 This banter relieved us. Perhaps the effeminate Charlie was 
 
10 A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 
 
 to introduce us to more gentle scenes, after the harsh tragedy of 
 the Captain. 
 
 Madonna had been too much for Charlie. They had walked 
 together in the yellow moonlight, on the hanks of the I«in. " I 
 had the rare luck " said Charlie, [• to be loved by a saint, and I 
 had the foul villainy to betray that saint." And so it was. 
 One night in October, there was a grand ball at Innspruck. 
 The Countess Laura was there with " rings on her fingers, and 
 bells on her toes." A waltz or two on the floor — a tete a tete 
 in the deserted music room — and all this time Madonna was 
 standing alone. From Innspruck the Countess journeyed to 
 Prague, and Charlie went with her, and all this time Madonna's 
 heart was bleeding. 
 
 " Shy she was, and I thought her cold, 
 Thought her proud, and fled o'er the sea ; 
 Filled I was with folly and spite, 
 While Ellen Adair was dying for me." 
 
 Twelve months afterward, Charlie wandered through the 
 Tyrols. The solemn stars looked down upon him with stern 
 unpitying eyes. A sullen mist shrouded the vague mountain 
 lines. A white stone gleamed under the great still moon. It 
 was a place where the moonbeams loved to nestle — Madonna's 
 grave. The door of love was closed behind him, and he was 
 forced out into the world alone. 
 
 Then I had to admit that my commonplace life had been 
 varied by a stray ray of romance. When Messrs. Jones and 
 Smith assumed the millinery liabilities of my orphan sisters, I 
 visited Montreal. At the Gray Nunnery, the sudden doom 
 of love befell me. Among the fair penitents who knelt there 
 solemnly, counting their beads and repeating Pater Nosters, 
 was one fairer than them all, pure as the rich mists of sunset 
 that drifted through the oriel windows. Here was fulfilled the 
 type of my youth. I became a lover at once. All the aspira- 
 tions of my youth were crowded into sudden intensity. In three 
 weeks we were in Cuba — my wife and I. But what had I done ? 
 I had dared to trans-plant a flower consecrated to God, and to 
 graft it in its purity into my heart. The contact with the world 
 of Sin, shocked my little nun. One day a priest called her an 
 
A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 11 
 
 impure vestal. That broke her heart. " Mea culpa/' she cried, 
 and left me forever. Her life became an expiating prayer in a 
 convent, and there she is now, counting her beads and repeating 
 her prayers, as in the olden time." 
 
 We now turned savagely upon Max. Was he satisfied with 
 the contents of the three skeleton-closets which he had caused 
 us to ventilate ? 
 
 " Well, fellows," said he, " when our Quadrilateral adjourned 
 sine die on the college green, in '60, 1 set my face Southward. I 
 went to Mobile. Whom do you think I met there ?" 
 
 " Mandeville '59 !" said Jack. 
 
 Max shook his head. Mandeville was a prime fellow. If the 
 Quadrilateral could ever have been developed into a Pentagon, 
 he would have constituted the additional side ; and that was no 
 small thing, so high was our esprit de corps. 
 
 " Flora Dunbar ! " said Charlie. 
 
 " Hogarth has n't forgotten his Newport sweet-heart. It was n't 
 Flora !" 
 
 " Pious Tommy," said I, making a shrewder guess and giving 
 the soid>riquet of one of Brown's valedictorians. Pious Tommy's 
 only debauches were over Thucydides and Tacitus. In his 
 Seventh Heaven all hope was crowned by a gigantic figure 20. 
 
 '' Pious Tommy was the man," continued Max, " and he 
 married the woman whom I loved. You must know that after 
 a series of desperate flirtations with Miss X., I resolved to 
 bring sentiment to a focus. But you all know my difl&dence. 
 Ask a woman to marry me, — me, the aforesaid ? I could n't do 
 it. I determined to woo by proxy. Pious Tommy knew her 
 intimately ; so I asked him to be my deputy, and urged him to 
 break the thing very delicately. Tommy was never overburdened 
 with tact, but on this occasion he betrayed his utter incapacity 
 for diplomacy. ' Miss X.,' said he, '■ there is one who loves you 
 truly. Will you, — can you give him a part of your heart?' 
 Miss X., gentlemen, never did anything by halves and she did n't 
 then. She threw her arms around Tommy's neck and told him he 
 (antecedent Thomas aforesaid) was welcome to her whole heart. 
 Tommy felt the necessity of a change of base. He came to me 
 and told me all, adding, '' Barkis is willin' !' I gave him carte 
 blanche.'' 
 
12 A FOUR SIDED ROMANCE. 
 
 "Yes !" said Charlie, "but old Gov. X. would demand ducats 
 for his daughter. I remember the old fellow ! Auri sacra fames 
 was written on his face." 
 
 " Tommy was a teller at the Planter's Bank. I boosted him 
 by my capital so that he was made cashier, and I gave him my 
 house as a wedding gift, when I entered the Southern army." 
 
 We all stared. I am afraid that we would have sharpened 
 stillettos or mixed poisons. 
 
 " Were you drafted ?" I asked. 
 
 " No 1 but Tommy was, and he could n't buy a substitute. As 
 the day drew near when he was to leave his wife, I saw that 
 the poor girl was drooping in mind and body. So I took Tom- 
 my's place in the army and Tommy's bird brightened up." 
 
 " Why, man !" spoke the Captain, " if he had entered the army 
 he would probably never have returned, and you might have — " 
 
 " Hush, Captain ! If he had died it would have killed her. 
 What was I to stand in his shoes ? As 1 loved her, I must keep 
 the man she loved by her side." 
 
 This was a more exalted love than we had ever dreamed of. 
 It seemed almost superhuman ; and yet Max did not seem to 
 think himself heroic, or even unselfish. 
 
 " Where are they now ?" 
 
 "In Italy." • 
 
 " But are they not in reduced circumstances ?" 
 
 Their little boy is very sickly, and Tommy himself has a pul- 
 monary complaint. I thought they ought to go — but their 
 expenses are not heavy — Tommy is very frugal." . 
 
 " Does she know of your love ?" I asked. 
 
 "No." 
 
 Charlie trolled the old couplet in his pensive way, 
 
 " He locked the secret in his breast 
 And died in silence, unconfessed." 
 
 There was a pause. Life was a purer, grander thing than we 
 thought. We felt in ourselves a great awakening. The roman- 
 tic talks and chivalrous resolves of the old Quadrilateral days 
 had given to our lives a certain crude momentum, but friction 
 with our lower natures had crippled this motive power. Max 
 alone had reaped the grander fruition of the grander days. 
 
NEWSPAPERS AND THEIR INFLUENCE. 13 
 
 The Captain spoke : 
 
 " The last toast, fellow Quads ! Health to the only hero of the 
 Quadrilateral ! Our love, Charlie and Thaliarchus, has been an 
 appetite. This man's love is a living martyrdom." 
 
 We drank cyathis plenis, and thus the Quadrilateral adjourned. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 NEWSPAPERS AND THEIR INFLUENCE. 
 
 " How shall I speak thee, or thy power address, 
 Thou God of our idolatry — the Peess. 
 By thee, Religion, Liberty and Laws, 
 Exert their influence and advance their cause; 
 By thee worse plagues than Pharoah's land befell, 
 Diffused, make earth the vestibule of hell ; 
 Thou fountain at which drink the good and wise ; 
 Thou ever buhhling spring of endless lies ; 
 Like Eden's dread probationary tree. 
 Knowledge of good and evil is from thee." 
 
 — Cowper. 
 
 Americans are essentially a reading people. Newspapers are 
 to them what beef is to the Englishman and beer to the German. 
 No one who is conversant with the number of newspapers and 
 periodicals published in this country, and their vast circulation, 
 can deny that they form an essential part of the daily wants of 
 the American people. They have become one of the first neces- 
 sities of our social life. A man who does not take at least a 
 weekly paper is considered as without the pale of civilization — 
 as behind the age. They are acknowledged to be the most 
 potent engine for forming and directing public opinion on all 
 subjects. Religion, politics, literature, science, all make use of 
 their influence. And it is not too much to say that, in our 
 country, all the other professions are subject in some manner to 
 the Press. 
 
 The growth of the newspaper is one of the wonders of this 
 fast age. Nothing is more demonstrative of the great march of 
 intellect which has taken place in the present generation. The 
 first newspaper published in this country, was issued consider- 
 ably less than two centuries ago. It is amusing, at this late 
 
14 NEWSPAPERS AND THEIR INFLUENCE. 
 
 day, to read that its publication was declared contrary to law 
 by the colonial legislature, and that it contained " reflections of 
 a very high nature." It was accordingly immediately suppressed. 
 The projectors little knew of the mighty engine they were call- 
 ing into being. From this beginning it has spread -with the 
 increase of the population, until there is scarcely a town or 
 hamlet in the land that cannot boast of its daily or weekly 
 paper. Instead of the single sheet of fifty years ago, we have 
 the metropolitan daily, with its eight pages, each measuring a 
 square yard. At the present time, in our country alone, there 
 are more than five thousand regular publications, with a weekly 
 circulation of about seventy-five million copies. Great Britain, 
 with nearly the same population, sustains but about one-fourth 
 of the number of publications that we do. This single com- 
 parison can but sho's\ the great superiority of the American 
 people in intelligence, over those of any other country. 
 
 Most persons have but a vague and indefinite conception 
 of the internal mechanism of a daily paper. Some look upon 
 it as wholly originating with the office where it is published. 
 Others suppose it to be a careless mass of rubbish offered, by 
 voluntary contribution, to one mysterious person called an 
 editor, who illuminates it by a leading article. Everything in a 
 newspaper is paid for. Even voluntary contributions, as a gen- 
 eral thing, are dearly paid for by the discredit which they bring 
 upon the paper ; so it has come to be a well established axiom, 
 that every unpaid contributor is an ass. Then it is considered 
 by the majority, one of the easiest things in the world to run a 
 newspaper. Doubtless it is, if it is to be " run into the ground." 
 But to make it a permanent organ of public opinion, requires a 
 combination of talents rarely found There is no profession 
 where it is so easy to give offence ; where it is so necessary to 
 be " all things to all men." " The man who once becomes a 
 journalist," says Mr. Hunt, " must almost bid farewell to mental 
 rest or leisure." It needs constant application and assiduous 
 care to keep in operation the intricate network, stretching all 
 over the country, by which information is gathered, sifted and 
 prepared for publication. 
 
 In directing our inquiries into the influence of newspapers, 
 
NEWSPAPERS AND THEIR INFLUENCE. 15 
 
 we will first glance at their influence upon the moral tone of 
 society. They are, in a certain sense, the indicators of this 
 tone. Depravity in the one shows depravity in the other. But 
 the favorite assertion of some persons, that the press is the 
 retailer of private slander, and therefore injurious to private 
 character, is completely the reverse of the truth. A story is 
 put in circulation, defaming the character of some individual. 
 It is whispered from ear to ear ; talked over in the club-room 
 and in the coffee-house. But it is utterly useless for the victim 
 to attempt to refute it. These rumors are neither tangible nor 
 punishable. At length the story finds its way into the paper. 
 It is now brought to the knowledge of the accused and an oppor- 
 tunity offered him to make a public denial. Thus newspapers 
 are useful in affording a correction to false and injurious rumors 
 respecting private character, and are the means of clearing the 
 social atmosphere of one of its most baneful evils. They are 
 always under guarantees for their correctness, and if their 
 reports are erroneous, the correction can be made as widely 
 known as the mistake. So they exert a salutary rather than a 
 pernicious influence upon the morals of a community. 
 
 The press has been truly called the " glory of a free country." 
 And it is only under a free and enlightened system of govern- 
 ment, that it can attain to its full powers. Under such a govern- 
 ment the press must necessarily exert a wide influence on politi- 
 cal affairs, as the power springs directly from the people, the 
 majority of whom are absolutely led by the journals in the 
 formation of their opinions. The cheapness and dispatch of 
 newspapers, render them a valuable part of the political machine. 
 The invention of the magnetic telegraph and the modern system 
 of reporting have greatly enlarged their influence in this depart- 
 ment. The statesman, as he stands in the legislative hall, knows 
 that every word he utters will be flashed by the telegraph to the 
 remotest bounds of the country, and by means of the press, laid 
 before the people. " The newspaper," says Sir E. Bulwer 
 Lytton, " informs legislation of public opinion and informs the 
 people of the acts of the legislature." Thus they maintain a 
 constant line of communication between the government and the 
 
16 NEWSPAPERS AND THEIR INFLUENCE. 
 
 people, and therefore inevitably exert a tremendous national 
 influence. 
 
 Newspapers are the best civilizers in a country. They do 
 more for the intellectual advancement of a people than any 
 other kind of publication. It is impossible that any people, 
 within whose reach are good journals, can resist the temptation 
 to letters. There is no one so learned, no one so ignorant, who 
 cannot find something in them suited to his capacity. They are, 
 in fact, the instruments which enable an individual to avail him- 
 self of the experience of the whole community. All will find 
 in them something which concerns their interests and pursuits, 
 something which enlarges their ideas and exercises their reason. 
 " The newspaper,'' says Sir E. Bulwer Lytton, " is the chronicle 
 of civilization, the common reservoir into which every stream 
 pours its living waters, and at which every man may come and 
 drink." They contain within themselves, not only the elements 
 of knowledge, but the inducements to learn. They convey 
 instruction, not only by the inculcation of opinions, but by train- 
 ing the reader in the habit of looking beyond his own narrow 
 circle to the results of a more extended observation. They are, 
 in fine, the People's Book. 
 
 The press of the present day, we confess, is far from being 
 perfect. Instead of being a free and independent )-ecord of 
 passing events, aiding the dissemination of knowledge, and in- 
 structing, the people, it too often descends from its high estate, 
 and, in the hands of designing men, becomes the vehicle of party 
 strife and feuds, and allows itself to be flattered into a betrayal 
 of the trust reposed in it by the people, for a glittering alliance 
 with power. This is greatly to be deplored, when we consider 
 the almost omnipotent influence which it exerts in shaping public 
 opinion, on all subjects connected with civil government and so- 
 ciety. If the press means to serve the people faithfully, it 
 ought not to link itself, too closely, with any party, but maintain 
 a watchful, jealous, independent and honorable guardianship over 
 all. We know that politics are almost inseparable from the 
 daily newspaper. But this does not prevent discussions from 
 being carried on in a fair and honorable manner, and the doing 
 
A PERSIAN IDYL. 17 
 
 away of those petty bickerings, which ^only serve to bring out 
 he baser nature of man. 
 
 There is another great defect in the press, which detracts 
 much from its influence. This is the connection of personality 
 with it. Far less weight is attached to the articles of a paper 
 where the authors are known than -where they are unknown. 
 The nearest approach to getting rid of this defect has been 
 exhibited in the '' London Times." By merely keeping secret 
 the names of its editors and contributors, it has more than 
 doubled its influence and wielded a power not even second to 
 the government itself. But we doubt if the press generally, at 
 least in this country, will ever be able to take advantage of this 
 system of management. 
 
 But, with all its imperfections, we can but regard the press as 
 the bulwark of freedom, the brightest jewel in the crown of 
 liberty. Wherever it exists unfettered, there tyranny cannot 
 thrive, and wrong and injustice must shrink back abashed. It 
 is a power which, if rightly directed, can do more than anything 
 else human, to raise humanity up to a higher and nobler stand- 
 ard. It is the rock of civil and religious liberty. It has been 
 the means of establishing liberty of opinion and liberty of con- 
 science and thereby ameliorating the condition of the great mass 
 of the people. Wherever the liberty of the press has become 
 permanently fixed, mankind has become both happier and wiser. 
 Where it is under a strict surveillance, true freedom of opinion 
 can be but little appreciated. As Americans value the freedom 
 which they now enjoy, let them guard the " liberty of the Peess." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 A PERSIAN IDYL. 
 
 'Twas in the stillness of tlie night 
 
 That Hussan Bey awoke ; 
 His moan of pain — his cry of fright 
 
 A grisly dream hespoke. 
 The fragrance of a cresset bright 
 
 Breathed through the rich divan ; 
 In cerements white of cold starlight 
 
 Lay silent Ispahan ; 
 
A PERSIAN IDYL, 
 
 While through the vine-clad lattice bars, 
 He saw the cold, white, solemn stars. 
 
 Up sprang his Highness, Hussan Bey, 
 
 And pale as death was he ; 
 As if his soul from land astray 
 
 Had drifted out to sea ; 
 AVhere never mortal man had teen, 
 AVhere never sun nor star is seen, 
 
 A dark, unsounded sea. 
 
 " A grisly dream ! " said Hassan Bey, 
 
 " curse the Dream-god's art! 
 Zuleika in her sleep to slaj^. 
 
 Had I the hand — the heart ? 
 Zuleika false ? The Dream-god lies ! 
 
 She's true as Allah s word ! 
 She's true — I swear it by her eyes ! 
 
 Yea ! By the Prophet's sword ! " 
 Hush, Moslem ! 'Tis a fearful risk. 
 And faithless is thy odalisque ! 
 
 By hands unseen the Moslem's drawn 
 
 Beyond the rich divan. 
 Embosomed in a velvet lawn 
 
 ■ A gravel terrace ran ; 
 A marble arch-way half reveals 
 
 A garden of Delight ; 
 While o'er his soul in silence steals 
 
 The solemn calm of Night. 
 All day a breeze from spicy leas, 
 
 Whose fragrance it has robbed, 
 Sore home-sick for its native seas, 
 
 It's monotone hath sobbed; 
 Till soothed at last by gladsome glees 
 
 Of fountains, as they leap. 
 The southern breeze, in minor keys, 
 
 Hath sobbed itself to sleep. 
 The shadows of a stately mosque, 
 Are brooding o'er the gay kiosk. 
 
 But what now palsies Hassan Bey ? 
 
 He halts — all petrified ! 
 What gorgon horror in the way ? 
 
 Is it dread Azrael's bride ? 
 Not Death's, but thine, child of Fate ! 
 
 Thy bride — thy own fair bride ! 
 Blind was thy love — now learn to hate 
 
 The darling of thy pride. 
 
 ( 
 
• A PERSIAN IDYL. 19 
 
 She sits within the cool kiosk, 
 Beneath the shadow of the mosque. 
 
 — He does not come — her Selim fair ! 
 
 In patience sweet she waits : 
 An opiate fragrance in the air 
 
 Her senses suffocates. 
 He does not come — the night grows old; 
 She will not think his love grown cold. 
 
 O'er leagues of sand from Samurcand 
 
 Now creeps a caravan ; 
 With lavish hand, an Eastern land 
 
 Enriches Ispahan. 
 From sands remote in cadence float 
 
 The camels' silver* hells : 
 sweeter is the silver note 
 
 Than lover's fond farewells — 
 E'en those farewells which Fable tells 
 Once drifted o'er the Dardanelles ! 
 
 He does not come — his vows to keep ! 
 
 She sings a few sweet words ; 
 And as she sings, she falls asleep 
 
 Among the flowers and birds. 
 She knows no ill — she sweetly sleeps : 
 But nearer now the husband creeps. 
 
 " The dream was true — no painted lie ! 
 
 • Mashallah ! She must die ! " 
 O mournful was the Moslem's cry — 
 
 Each word a moaning sigh ! 
 '' Zuleika 's false ! My sword alone 
 Zuleilia's folly can atone." 
 
 He paused — for all his grisly dream 
 
 Came quickly back to him — 
 His moan of pain — his sudden scream — 
 
 The cresset burning dim. 
 For far above him in the skies, 
 
 He saw the cold, white stars : . 
 
 As cold, as keen, as when their eyes 
 
 Looked through the lattice bars. 
 '•' Remorse," so spake the stars in air, 
 " Will never save thee from Despair ! " 
 
 The Moslem poised his Syrian blade 
 
 Upon her ivory throat. 
 It floats in air — no gash is made — 
 
 This is Love's antidote. 
 
20 UP AT WOECESTER. 
 
 He breathed a prayer, lie left her there, 
 
 Still sleeping in the shade : 
 The winds were playing with her hair, 
 
 The stars did kiss the blade. 
 But when the fair Zuleika woke. 
 
 The first thing she did feel 
 Her husband's patient love bespoke — 
 
 It was the cold, blue steel. 
 Still poised in air the sword did float, 
 The fulcrum was her own white throat. 
 
 And when she found her rightful lord 
 
 Upon the sloping lawn. 
 She gave him back the shining sword 
 
 In naked glory drawn. 
 Back to her lord the sword she gave : 
 
 Beneath his feet did kneel ; 
 And thrice she called herself his slave, 
 
 And thrice she kissed the steel. 
 Brave words she said, and vows discreet ; 
 
 She 'd be a faithful wife ; 
 The penitential words, so sweet, 
 
 Did call him back to life. 
 Adrift upon that sea he 'd been, 
 "Where ne'er the light of love is seen. 
 
 He clasped Zuleika to his breast ; 
 
 He kissed away her tears. 
 Her trembling heart now found a rest 
 
 From all its troubled fears. 
 And as she looked up in his eyes, 
 She saw that smile she used to prize. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 UP AT WORCESTER. 
 
 In the leafy month of July, when the trees have pat on their 
 freshest green, and the skies their softest blue — just when nature 
 has fully prepared herself for the luxurious rest of midsummer, 
 and the pleasing languor of the midday begins to forewarn of 
 the scorching August weather — the student leaves his well studied 
 books and his seat in the tedious class-room, and betakes him- 
 self to the breezy hills of Worcester, to see the Regatta and to 
 strive with lungs and muscles for the honor of his Alma Mater. 
 
 Nor is a welcome wanting to the pale faced burner of the mid- 
 
UP AT WORCESTER. 21 
 
 night oil. Worcester calls together her prominent citizens a 
 few days beforehand^ and no expense of trouble or money is 
 spared to welcome the college boys. The Bay State throws 
 wide its hospitable doors. The Spy takes a sudden and intense 
 interest in college matters. The Worcester Brass Band and 
 the Brigade Band, of Boston, are engaged to cast music's sweet 
 influence over the festivities. The policemen put the annual 
 load into their revolvers, shine up their breast plates, and re- 
 varnish their billies. Seats are put up at the Lake and the 
 Ball ground ; — and the ladies, dear creatures, buy new bonnets 
 and put on their sweetest smiles for the benefit of the collegians. 
 
 The programme for the first da}^ is the Worcester city races. 
 These are always rather sparsely attended, and this year was no 
 exception to the rule, although the six-oared race, in which the 
 Wards beat the Harvards, in the astonishing time of 17.40J, 
 made it an occasion of unusual interest. 
 
 On the second day the students appear in force, and staid old 
 Worcester begins to sparkle and effervesce like a freshly 
 opened bottle of champagne. Jaunty youths fill the streets, 
 dressed in suits of the latest cut and most fastidious taste, sport. 
 ing the nobbiest of beavers and most dapper of canes, winking 
 and grinning at the Worcester beauties, and chaffing the shop- 
 men, who sell them their unlimited soda water and bushels of 
 magenta and blue ribbon. All around the Bay State House is a 
 scene of excitement which gradually pervades the city. The 
 whole population, from the small boy who vends the daily 
 papers to the pompous merchant who rolls by in his carriage, 
 hang out a scrap of magenta or blue to show a conviction on the 
 great question of the relative superiority of Harvard or Yale. 
 Woe be to the man who depends on restaurants for his meals 
 at Regatta time. On going into one for dinner we were re- 
 minded of Dickens' painful story of the kitchen boy, who went 
 mad under the press of business, and we could not help expect- 
 ing, every time the dumb waiter came up, to see a scrubbing 
 brush and a pickled onion served up as in that case. The room 
 was crammed with hungry and vociferous students, all bawling 
 for the delicacies of the season, and the proprietors and waiters,. 
 
22 UP AT WORCESTER. 
 
 stunned and confused, were vainly striving to command their 
 senses in the midst of the fiendish din. 
 
 The Freshman match of the afternoon was no better and no 
 worse than Freshman matches usually are. The Harvards 
 were about as much superior this year as the Yales were last 
 year, the game standing thirty-eight to nineteen in favor of Har- 
 vard. 
 
 The Regatta concert, which took place on this evening, fell 
 rather flatter than usual, for want of the splendid choruses, with 
 which the Harvard G-lee Club has entertained the guests in 
 other years. 
 
 It was on this evening also that the riotous proceedings oc- 
 curred which have called down such a storm of objurgations 
 from the press, not only on students, but on colleges, education, 
 and civilization in general. The real facts when compared with 
 the representations which have grown out of them, seen really in- 
 significant. The papers tell us with all the gravity in the world, 
 that one hundred and three policemen were required to quell the 
 riot. One hundred of these were made up by the joint eflbrts of 
 Boston and Worcester, and the additional three, who were 
 necessary, were procured from Providence. We also learn that 
 besides regulating the drunken pandemonium which raged for 
 some hours in the hotel, this whole force was necessary to pro- 
 tect the terrified citizens and their property from the outrages 
 of the maddened mob of students. The facts were, that after 
 a period of harmless noise in the J^ay State House, a party 
 sallied out thence about midnight for some fun. After bothering 
 the proprietor of the Waldo House a little, they stole an old 
 wagon from a barn, and a gilded wooden watch from over a 
 watchmaker's door. The wagon they carried up one of the 
 steep streets to the very highest point, and started it down 
 from there at full speed. Rattling down the slope with tremen- 
 dous momentum, it was dashed in pieces against an iron post at 
 the bottom. After this proud deed, they repaired again to the 
 hotel, where the police were found, waiting like Micawber, for 
 something to " turn up," and in no small perturbation at the 
 prospect of a row. As the students, however, did not make 
 any demonstrations more ferocious than mocking the command- 
 
UP AT WORCESTEE. 23 
 
 ing officer, and imitating the somewhat clumsy evolutions of 
 these warriors, it was determined to arrest some of them. Two 
 men, small and feeble in body and mind, were seized and marched 
 off to the receptacle in which Worcester confines her drunken 
 negroes and other excrescent population. But they went not 
 alone. The blood of these scions of aristocracy was " up," and 
 reflecting that Great Harvard was at their back, and that no 
 Worcester official would dare to harm a " Harvard man," they 
 determined to show their sense of the ungenerous conduct of the 
 officials, by chivalrously accompanying their innocent but unfor- 
 tunate comrades to the Worcester " Jug." 
 
 We regret to close the story of such magnanimity by stating 
 that the judge rewarded their noble conduct, next morning, by 
 fining nineteen out of the twenty, twenty-seven dollars each, and 
 committing the unwary " ragger '.' of the watch sign, to stand his 
 trial for petty larceny. The hundred and three policemen were 
 dismissed to their several' homes at the proper time, much 
 fatigued with their labors. 
 
 Such was the Worcester riot, of A. D., 1868, and insignificant 
 as it was, we cannot help blaming seriously the vanity and 
 pomposity of these men, who, coming from the pent up Utica of 
 Cambridge, think that if they steal and smash the wagon of some 
 poor laborer, or deprive an honest mechanic of his business sign, 
 all Worcester and all the world will cry, "lo triumphe !" What 
 smart men they raise in Cambridge ! We say Cambridge, for 
 the actors in this farce were all Harvard men, excepting four 
 Yalensians, who were led astray, no doubt, by the bad company 
 they found themselves in. • The operation reminds us of an apt 
 saying of Dr. Johnson's, " An Athenian blockhead is the worst 
 of all blockheads." The Boston Advertiser, wishing to shift 
 some of the blame from the modern Athenians, stated that Brown 
 men participated in the performance, but the assertion is without 
 foundation, and we cannot but think that every Brown man, even 
 in the lowest class, would know too much to disgrace his college 
 in such a childish manner. 
 
 Whatever unpleasantness had thus far occurred, had resulted 
 from the neglect or misconduct of the students, but the elements 
 themselves frowned upon the University Base Ball game which 
 
24 UP AT WORCESTER. 
 
 was to take place Friday morning, and the large and enthusiastic 
 assemblage was obliged to leave the ground in a pelting rain, 
 after seeing one innings only of the much anticipated game. It 
 will be remembered that the Williams and Harvard match was 
 interrupted in precisely the same way last year. 
 
 On Friday afternoon occurs the great event of all, — the college 
 boat race, — and all Worcester and all the visitors rush to the 
 Lake to view the great struggle. All who can get carriages, do ' 
 so, but the great mass of people traverse the intervening five 
 miles in immensely long railroad trains. These trains disgorge 
 their passengers at Lake station, which is the nearest point to the 
 course. The train into which the writer was jammed, could not 
 have contained less than eighteen hundred people. The train, 
 after emptying, rushed off with a shriek, to obtain a new load, 
 and the long procession began slowly winding over the hillsides, 
 towards the Lake. Falling in with the line, a walk of five min- 
 utes brought as in sight of the water. Leaving the crowd here, 
 to follow the road to the grand stand, a short cut through the 
 thick trees and brush, which skirt the road, opened to view an 
 active and an interesting scene. 
 
 Scattered about the boat houses, which are situated here at 
 the head of the Lake, are some of the greatest boating luminaries 
 of the United States, and many college celebrities in other lines. 
 
 The dark, handsome fellow, yonder, so neatly and stylishly 
 dressed, is John Tyler, who is to commence the sports of the 
 afternoon by a race with the loose-jointed Arab, who lies ex- 
 tended at the foot of yonder tree. He is the great Cold Spring 
 man, John McKiel. The low-browed man with the immense 
 shoulders, who is talking to the crowd about him, is Walter 
 Brown, the greatest single sculler in America, — perhaps, in the 
 world. 
 
 Here come the Wards, in costume, — dingy flannel shirts, white 
 handkerchiefs, and old boots and trowsers. Since the Fourth of 
 July, they have won, in prizes, about eight hundred dollars. 
 To-day is the twenty -fourth. That's a pretty good three weeks' 
 work, when you come to add the glory, and the perquisites, in 
 bets, gifts, etc., which amount to as much more, in all probability. 
 They are all brothers, but one, and you see in them the marked 
 
UP AT WORCESTER. 25 
 
 resemblance to each other, which a fine race always bears. The 
 same clear eye, aquiline nose, and firm-set mouth, make each one 
 look what he is, a sensible, honest American man. The very 
 heavily built, middle-aged man, is Josh, the bow. He is the 
 largest of all, next to Gril. It is customary to put the lightest 
 man in the bow, but the Wards defy all custom, and all compe- 
 tition. That stringy, little, old fellow, is Hank, head of the fam- 
 ily, and stroke of the boat. There are the Harvard s, listening 
 to Bill Blaikie, the celebrated single sculler, and stroke of the 
 '66 Harvard. The mighty back and shoulders, turned to us, 
 belong to Simmons, No. 3, in the Harvard crew, and the strong 
 man of the college. One hundred and seventy pounds of the 
 best bone and muscle in the universe. The tawny, resolute man 
 next him, is Loring, considered by competent judges, the most 
 artistic and unapproachable stroke in the country. In the knot 
 of students around them, are some not unknown to fame. There 
 are Willard and Smith, the great base ball men, and that big- 
 fellow, yonder, is the man, who, you will remember, shot his 
 chum through the door, in his Freshman year, thinking it was the 
 Sophomores, coming to haze him. Fortemque Gyan, Fortemque 
 Cloanthum. 
 
 We pass on to the grand stand, brilliant with beauty, and 
 bristling with magenta and blue. No more appropriate spot 
 could have been chosen for the annual college race, than this one. 
 Scott nor Cooper ever painted a more romantic lake, than this 
 little Quinsigamond. Nestled in a cosy nook, among the tall 
 hills ; no bare beaches, nor reeking swamps, disfigure its borders, 
 but far as the eye can see, the bending trees dip their thick, 
 drooping foliage, in its waters. Nor can a speck be seen on the 
 pure surface, except where, here and there, patches of the broad 
 leaves and beautiful flowers of the pond-lily ride on the tiny 
 waves. 
 
 The grand stand is erected on one of the most projecting 
 points on the lake, and from here the lovely dames of Worcester 
 and New Haven, of Boston and Cambridge, can see their re- 
 spective favorites as they start ; watch them as they round the 
 point ; and encourage them as they return toward the goal, tug- 
 ging at the laboring oar. 
 4 
 
26 UP AT WORCESTER. 
 
 The professional races, which came first on the programrhe, 
 aroused considerable interest in special cliques ; but the mass 
 waited in impatience, for the contest which was to decide the 
 relative superiority of Harvard or Yale boating men. 
 
 The shot which called the boats into line, roused, in the vast 
 concourse, a deep hum of expectation, which continued till the 
 starting gun caused every heart to jump with excitement, when 
 a breathless silence ensued. 
 
 The grand stand is placed some distance from the starting 
 point, and the start could not be seen from there, but after a few 
 seconds, the beautiful shells burst on the view, leaping like 
 greyhounds up the course. Almost exactly even, they approach, . 
 the Harvards nearest, with the massive muscles heaving on their 
 bare, brown backs and corded arms ; and the Yales beyond, in 
 white shirts and the blue handkerchiefs. As they came opposite, 
 the Harvards, stimulated by the tremendous cheers of their par- 
 tizans, put on a great spurt. For a moment, their boat seemed 
 to live. There was that utter unity of action, which is the per- 
 fection of human effort. The boat seemed urged by a single 
 will.* Loring quickened to forty-eight per minute, the mighty 
 backs rose and bent as one, and, under that magnificent stroke, 
 the boat seemed flying. Yale strove well, but appeared to 
 stand almost still, as the "Harvard" actually rushed two 
 lengths ahead. Gaining rapidly, as they flew up the lake, the 
 Harvards rounded the stake, ten lengths ahead, and when they 
 again became visible at the stand, Harvard was fifteen lengths 
 ahead, and still rowing in perfect style, — ^the strokes falling and 
 ceasing with the absolute oneness of the cut of a knife. At this 
 splendid sight, tlie air was all a Harvard yell, and the earth was 
 all a magenta flame. Frantic enthusiasm took possession of all 
 Harvard sympathizers, and the great body of students, which 
 had rushed to the very water's edge, went wild with the madness 
 of the moment. They laughed, shouted, hugged each other, and 
 yelled " 'rahs," as a Harvard student can, at a Worcester 
 regatta. On the announcement of the time, the tempest again 
 broke forth, the time of the Harvards being within eight seconds 
 of the great Ward time, and the best ever made in any college 
 race. The Harvards, this year, made seventeen minutes, forty- 
 
UP AT WORCESTER. . 27 
 
 eight and a half seconds ; the time of last year, which was better 
 than any previously made, being only eighteen, twelve and three- 
 quarters. Yale made, this year, eighteen, thirty-eight and a 
 half, which is their best time ; last year's time being only nine- 
 teen, twenty-five and a half. The usual presentation of flags 
 and medals to the victorious crew, was accompanied by the 
 infallible shower, which has drenched the crowd, annually, for 
 some time past. The flags were presented by Mr. Blaikie, with 
 a speech, which was doubtless neat ; and Mr. Chamberlain pre- 
 sented the massive medals, on behalf of the city of Worcester. 
 
 The regatta sports virtually ended here, though a number of 
 enthusiasts waited to witness the ball game, which had been de- 
 ferred to Saturday. The game resulted in the victory of Har- 
 vard, as is known. 
 
 Taken together, we cannot regard this year's regatta as an 
 entire success. The action which the city authorities were 
 forced to take, does not reflect much credit on the student's 
 name ; and the presence of the Ward crew, in itself, the source 
 of much interest, became, under the circumstances, an unpleasant 
 feature. We should have preferred seeing one or the other col- 
 lege crew come off complete victors in the College regatta. In 
 the '^ix-oar race, of the first day, the champion college crew 
 was beaten by the Ward crew. The facts that other crews were 
 left far behind, that the time was unparalleled and that the victors 
 . have spent their lives at the business, palliate, but do not alter, 
 the unpleasant fact, that the honors of the week are with the 
 professionals, rather than with the college men. The introduc- 
 tion of professional races, oh the last day, just before the Uni- 
 versity race, we do not consider an improvement, either. It 
 gives a low, sporting tendency to the affair, which has never 
 pertained to it before, and draws the professional gamblers, a 
 class which does not mix well with the cultivated ladies and 
 gentlemen who have yearly honored the games with their atten- 
 dance. 
 
 For these reasons, we think the influence of the festivities, has, 
 this year, been a trifle less healthy than in other years ; still the 
 pleasant nature of the reunion, which has made it an institution, 
 will require much to counteract its influence. In spite of much 
 
28 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 more grave faux pas, than those of this year, the college world 
 would continue to anticipate, as the grand event of the Summer 
 vacation, the " Worcester Regatta." 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 0nu |[att^p. ri 
 
 The beginning of another college year, has rolled around, opening to every 
 student of Brown, new and loftier ranges of study, and marking a step in his 
 advance, in age and intellect. Since the last term, cultivated and pleasant 
 friends have graduated from the college circle, and strange, new-comers are 
 crowding others into the high places, which the absent ones have left vacant. 
 Scarcely have we had time to become accustomed to the novel feeling of 
 senior dignity, — scarcely have we ceased to miss, — sadly miss, — the pleasant, old 
 faces of the class of '68, before we are called upon to fill the wide chair, and to 
 undertake the pleasant, but responsible duties of the editor of the " Bruno- 
 nian.'' 
 
 With this number, some innovations are presented, which, we hope, may 
 prove acceptable. The character of the main articles, is somewhat lighter 
 than has been the case in past numbers ; and the department of which these 
 remarks are the initiative, is intended to give a more local tone to the maga- 
 zine. 
 
 For the futui-e, the editorial corps, will do all in its power ; but its efforts 
 must be energetically seconded by the college in general, to insure the growth 
 and improvement of our infant quarterly. First of all, we want articles to be 
 sent in. A great many of them. Members of the editorial board, ought to be 
 at liberty to devote their whole attention to local matters, and to clipping, 
 Selecting and compiling. They should not be obliged, as they have sometimes 
 been, to furnish nearly the whole of the copy itself. Another thing. The 
 greater the number of contributions sent in, the higher will be the standard of 
 the paper. For the editors — we whisper it in your ear — have sometimes been 
 obliged to insert articles which they did not think quite up to the standard of 
 the magazine, by the indomitable fact, that there would be nothing to take 
 their place, if rejected. So, scratch your heads, all you gentlemen of the quill, 
 who truly love your Alma Mater, and contribute something, to swell the pages 
 of her representative magazine, — her only representative. We want some- 
 thing from everybody, irrespective of class, society or age. Even a freshman, 
 may be able to write something, ■;vhich sh.all breathe forth the simplicity and 
 vivacity of his kind, although it will, of course, lack the almost oppressive 
 perspicuity of the sophomore, the junior's staid elegance, and the ponderous, 
 
HOME MATTEKS. 29 
 
 classic purity of senior productions. We know of several college papers, 
 which have numbered some of their hest contributors, among the " novi homi- 
 nes." Eeflect, too, oh, freshmen ! that first productions are generally rejected, 
 and think how much better, to get through that disagreeable formality in 
 freshman year, before the dignitj' has become too rampant. 
 
 The distinguished President of a leading Theological school, says, that he 
 can detect the Brown men, in a new class, by their superior style of com- 
 position. There is no reason why the Brunonian should not bo distinguished 
 from all other college magazines, by the same peculiarity, if its contributors 
 will put into it a little of the surplus energy, which is now wasted on cards, or 
 some similar occupation. Be careful, however, not to strike upon a wrong tone 
 of articles. Magazine essays should be the entremets and dessert of literature. 
 The light puflfs and jellies, the fruits and sauces, are what we want in the 
 Brunonian. Imitate Goldsmith, DoQuincey, Wilson and Lamb, rather than 
 Butler's Analogy, or Locke, on the Human Understanding. Lord Bacon's 
 essays are objectionable, for the tremendous condensation of the thought in 
 them, which produces a feeling of oppressiveness. Now, do be careful, gentle- 
 men, not to oppress our poor brains with the weight of your thoughts. " Draw 
 it mild," if we may be pardoned for an expressive colloquialism. The fact is, 
 we want you to be original. Deep research you can save for your future 
 works on "The Wealth of Nations," or "History of Civilization,'' or kindred 
 topics. We want another thing altogether. If you have got any imagina- 
 tion, write us some poetry. If you have not that divine spark, you can let 
 loose your fancy. Get astride of some of your hobbies, which are of general 
 interest, and let us know what you think about them. 
 
 Now, gentlemen, we have come to the second year of the Brunonian's exist- 
 ence. The college yard is breezy and romantic, and lovely as ever. The 
 catalogue is full of the names of good fello,ws. We have a large and fine fresh- 
 man class, and all promises splendidly for old Brown. All we want is lively 
 interest, on the part of all. Don't leave college matters to a few hard- worked, 
 unappreciated enthusiasts, but come forward, and take your share of the work. 
 
 As not the least important part of your duty to your Alma Mater, we ask 
 your support for the Brunonian. Go and subscribe for as many copies as you 
 can afford, and then read it, and above all, write for it. It is well worth one's 
 time to write down his thoughts. " Studium sine calamo somnium," was the 
 maxim of the ancient schoolmen. " No one," says Dr. Wayland, " can attain 
 to a high degree of mental cultivation, without devoting a large portion of 
 his time to the labor of composition." 
 
 Nor will the contributor be without illustrious exemplars. 0. W. Holmes, 
 N. P. Willis, and probably many other great men whom we do not know 
 about, published their first efibrts in college periodicals. Imitate their exam- 
 ple and "Forsan et vestrum miscebitur istis." 
 
 The Hundredth. 
 
 Although our shoulders are pretty heavily burdened with the multifarious 
 duties imposed upon us, as editors, we shall endeavor not to do injustice to an 
 event of such paramount interest as the One Hundredth Annual Connnencement 
 of our Alma Mater. 
 
30 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 The sun rose clear on the morning of September second, and all nature 
 smiled upon the sons of Brown, who were gathered from far and near, to enjoy 
 the pleasant reUnion among old college associations. At an early hour, the 
 college grounds afforded an interesting spectacle. There it was that men of 
 every stage of life — from silver-haired old age, to manhood in its prime, — had 
 hastened, that they might live over again in imagination, the happy days 
 spent at college. But we cannot dwell upon this picture, for there is too 
 much remaining to be told. 
 
 At ten o'clock, the old bell which swings over University Hall, pealed forth 
 the signal for forming the proces.sion. Here we may observe, that too much 
 praise cannot be awarded to the marshals of the day, Messrs. Daggett and 
 Bliss, of '68, for the ability displayed in the formation and management of the 
 procession. The classes formed into line, undergraduates and alumni, followed 
 by the Facility and President, and inspired by the martial strains of the 
 American Brass Band, proceeded down College street, to Market Square, and 
 thence through North Main, to the First Baptist Church. Here they opened 
 ranks, and allowed the Faculty, President and graduating class, to pass 
 through, into the building. Croivded, is not strong enough to express the ap- 
 pearance of the interior of the venerable structure. All the morning, the fair 
 lady friends of 'G8, had been pouring into the galleries, until not a vacant 
 spot was to be seen. Messrs. Thompson and Mason, acted as ushers at the 
 church, and economy of space, by them was reduced — collegiately speaking — 
 to a fine point. 
 
 Order and quiet at length established, the band gave an exquisite rendition 
 of the "Bronze Horse," after which, prayer was offered by President Caswell. 
 "Without entering into a critical examination of the several orations, (which 
 space forbids,) we merely append the order of exercises : 
 
 1. Latin Salutatory *. Lucius O. Bockwood. 
 
 2. Christianity of Paganism William E. Lincoln. 
 
 3. Sir Walter Scott's Works, a Tribute to his Patriotism. Edgar E. Stoddard. 
 
 4. Liberty, the Offspring of Oppression Xenophon D. Tingiey. 
 
 Selections from Grand Duchess Band. 
 
 5. Christianity in Modern Civilization Henry "W. Allen. 
 
 6. Morally right. Politically wise George R. Bead. 
 
 7. Weimar, in Goethe's time F. W. Douglas. 
 
 Les Clair, Eomanza Band.. 
 
 8. Cretan War George B. Chase. 
 
 9. Bismarck, the Richelieu of Germany S. T. Goodell. 
 
 10. The Function of Antagonism in Government CD. Belden. 
 
 Selections from L' Africaine Band. 
 
 11. Roman Law — Its Relations to American Institutions .. James Scammon. 
 
 12. The Rewards of Literary Effort C. H. Smart. 
 
 13. Activity, the True Philosophy of Life W. C. Poland. 
 
 Inaugural Galop, (D. W. Reeves.) Band. 
 
 The President then proceeded to deliver the customary latin address, a com- 
 mendatory feature of which was, that Sophomores required no equine appli- 
 
HOME MATTERS. 31 
 
 ances for helping their understanding. At the conclusion of this effort, the 
 diplomas were awarded to the graduating class. Seventeen gentlemen received 
 the degree of A. M., in course, and the same degree was conferred, as honorary, 
 upon Albert Carey Morse, Esq. The title of D. D., was conferred upon A. 
 Judsdn Huntingdon, Professor of Greek, in Columbian College; upon Eev, 
 James McCash, President of Princeton College ; and upon Rev. Howard 
 Osgood, Professor of Crozer Theological Seminary. The title of LL. D., was 
 given to James B. Angell, President of Vermont University ; to S. G. Howe, 
 M, J)., Superintendent of the Blind Asylum, Boston ; and to Nathan Clifford, 
 Justice of U. S. Supreme Court. 
 
 William H. Lyon then delivered an oration upon " The Sphere of Inde- 
 pendent Thought," with the valedictory addresses. 
 
 After Prayer and Benediction, the long procession reformed and marched 
 back to the College, to partake of the huge piles of good things which were 
 in waiting at that famous tent. 
 
 As soon as the alumni had taken their seats under the tent. President Caswell 
 called the assembly to order and the Rev. A. J. Gordon led in prayer, after 
 which an attack upon the tables was ordered. It is in vain to talk about the 
 ceaseless rattle and clatter of knives and forks ; the hum of voices engaged in 
 gay and familiar conversation ; the repeated outbreaks of wit and humor, — 
 our readers are too familiar with it all. 
 
 The banqueting at length subsiding, the President once more called the 
 assembly to order, and deeming it appropriate that the State in which the col- 
 lege was located should be heard from first, proposed " The State of Rhode 
 Island." 
 
 Gen. Burnside responded to this sentiment and closed by introducing Gen. 
 Van Zandt. After a few happy remarks by the General upon the relations 
 existing between the State and the college, President Caswell proposed " The 
 City of Providence." 
 
 In the absence of the Mayor, Dr. Caswell responded to the sentiment him- 
 self, in a few words, and closed by proposing " The honorable and honored 
 representatives of Rhode Island in the Nati mal Congress." 
 
 Senator Anthony responded, and spoke of the debt of gratitude which the 
 Alumni of such an institution owe to their Alma Mater. 
 
 Professor Gammell being called upon, entertained the audience with an 
 interesting historical account of the college, especially with reference to its 
 foundation, and closed by an earnest invocation for the blessing of Heaven to 
 rest upon the University. 
 
 After an address by Professor Fisher in behalf of the Sons of Brown, the 
 President delivered a stirring address upon Education. In the course of the 
 speech he read a letter from Hon. R. G. Hazard and his son, R. Hazard, the 
 one an honored patron, and the other a graduate of the University, who 
 offered to endow a professorship in the college, with an appropriation of 
 $40,000. The announcement was received with tremendous applause, 
 
 S- L. Parker, Esq., here announced that he was ready to give $1,000, to the 
 funds of the University, and Hon. George King, of Class of '50, stated that he 
 would add a like amount, and hoped that the funds for the college, would be 
 raised in this manner, rather than by larger donations from few individuals. 
 
32 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 Judge Wilson, of Chicago, .Class of '38, spoke in behalf of his class. The 
 speech abounded in humor and racy anecdotes, and was received with continued 
 laughter and applause. The Class of '40, was called, but there being no 
 response. Senator Foster, of Connecticut, took the floor. He graduated forty 
 years ago, and his address was able and interesting. 
 
 Here the President arose and suggested, that "as the Goddess of Poetry is 
 always young, and they who worship at her shrine renew their youth," the 
 audience now listen to the Poet of the day, Hon. Charles Thurber, Class of '37. 
 
 Mr. Thurber's poem, was upon the theme — Old Age. The sentiment which 
 pervaded it, was very much after the manner in which Cicero sets forth the 
 bright side of old age, in the " De Senectute." The opening stanza, was as 
 follows ; 
 
 " When we were boys — we 're boys to-day — 
 
 But younger than we are at present. 
 We thought that folks were old, if gray. 
 
 And fancied 'twould not be so pleasant. 
 But now we find, as we among 
 
 Our fellow-sinners, daily mingle. 
 Folks may be gray, and still be young, 
 
 And youth's warm blood within them tingle." 
 
 The spirit of the piece was, throughout, after this happy style. That 
 although age may take possession of the body, the thoughts and feelings of 
 right-minded men, will ever be preserved, fresh and youthful. 
 
 " My theory is, that age and time. 
 
 Not always march along together. 
 Age may be in its very prime, 
 
 While time, stands waiting at the river. 
 It treats us, as we pass along, 
 
 A good deal as we mortals use it, 
 Used well, it keeps us young and strong, 
 
 And shakes us, if we dare abuse it." 
 
 We cannot pass over the following happy application : 
 
 " Show me the man, who has not been 
 
 To Brown, for many a gay September, 
 And I will show some bone or skin, 
 
 Too shrunk for classmates to remember. 
 But show me one, who, on that day, 
 
 Is always present, absent never, 
 And I '11 show one, who although gray, 
 
 Is yet, at heart, as young as ever." 
 
 After this poem, which was eminently successful, the Rev. Mr. Dennison 
 read a poem, which was a glowing tribute to the memory of Dr. Wayland. 
 
 The Hon. Amasa Walker, of Brookfield, Mass., followed with a speech 
 upon the immense popularity of Dr. Wayland' s works. 
 
HOME MATTERS. 33 
 
 The exercises closed with singing the ever fresh, and, on this occasion, emi- 
 nently fitting, "Old Hundredth," after which, the company dispersed about 
 the grounds. 
 
 jMany of the classes established headquarters in various rooms in the college 
 buildings. The Class of '64:, had a large class banner, suspended from the 
 windows of No. 8, Hope College, and their jubilant songs, within, attracted a 
 large audience to the vicinity. 
 
 The Commencement, of '68, must be regarded as a success, throughout. • No 
 circumstance happened to lessen the enjoyment of the day. The present 
 thriving condition of old Brown, is calculated to make us feel proud to 
 welcome, at any time, the Alumni, to her halls ; but more especially may we 
 congratulate ourselves, upon the demonstration of her prosperity, on the second 
 of September, last. 
 
 The beginning of the new college year brings important changes in the 
 Faculty. All have been pleased at learning that the high culture and faithful 
 services of Messrs, Clark and Appleton have baen recoguized by the Corpora- 
 tion, and that these gentlemen have been advanced to professorships in their 
 special branches. 
 
 We hear pleasant things from the Junior and Sophomore classes concerning 
 Mr. T. Whiting Bancroft, who comes as a stranger among us. This gentle- 
 man is a graduate of the class of '59, and had been teaching since his gradua- 
 tion, making for himself a first-class reputation. Ho has been principal, for 
 some time past, of the Newtonville High School, a place which he leaves to 
 take the chair of Rhetoric and English Literature. 
 
 Arnold Buffum Chace, the new instructor in Chemistry, was salutatorian of 
 the class of '66. He has been studying ia the laboratories of Paris, during 
 the greater part of the time since he was graduated. Mr. Chace is already 
 known to the members of the Senior class, who will envy their more fortunate 
 successors their Chemistry tutor. 
 
 The Dunn Scholarship. 
 
 The friends of the late reverend Professor Dunn, wish to found a rhetorical 
 scholarship, which shall be called the Dunn Scholarship, in honor of his mem- 
 ory. The plan is to obtain one thousand dollars, by subscription. The income 
 of this amount is to be given to that member of the junior class who, shall 
 have attained the highest standing in the rhetorical studies of the year. 
 
 The project was a favorite one with Professor Dunn, and its completion 
 
 will be the fittest tribute to his name. The circular which sets forth the 
 
 above facts, bears the names of Dr. Edward P. Caswell, Col. Horatio Rogers, 
 
 and John Peirce, Esq. Contributions may be handed to Mr. Guild, at the 
 
 library. The seniors contribute as a class, and some graduate classes do the 
 
 same. The amount of each contribution will not be made known, and it is 
 
 hoped that individuals who are interested, will not be backward in sending 
 
 even the smallest gift towards this good cause. 
 5 
 
34 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 From '68. 
 
 No one who has not yet passed through it, knows the feelings of mingled 
 pleasure and pain, which the graduating student experiences. Commencement 
 day is one long looked forward to, and — if we may judge from the testimony 
 before us — it is also one looked hack upon. 
 
 Four weeks have scarcely cast their shadows upon us, and yet, already, we 
 hear from old 'Sixty-eight, faint expressions of longing to he haok at Brown. 
 We'have seen several epistles from our lately graduated friends, and, thinking 
 that they may he of interest to the readers of the " Brunonian," we subjoin 
 the following extracts : 
 
 N , Sept. 14, 1868. 
 
 Dear Friend : — Here am I, perched on my stool, writing to o\ir dear old 
 "mush" mixer of White Mountain fame. Oh, heavens! "Why did I ever 
 leave College, Providence, and all Mafair attractions, to sit here from morning 
 till night, driving a quill for miserable stamps ? I give it up ! It's a conun- 
 drum I have put to mj^self fifty times a day at least, during the past week, 
 and failing to obtain a satisfactory answer from raj^ own muddled brain, I now 
 look to you. 
 
 ********* 
 
 How is the Ham^ner ^- Tongs prospering ? I would give all my old boots and 
 shoes, (if 1 had not already sold them at an immense loss,) to be with you all 
 once more. Even now the howls of the " Deutcher's Dorg" are ringing in 
 my ears, and I see, in fancy, Mrs. Bouncer, the favorite Mrs. Bouncer, the 
 bewitching Mrs. Bouncer, — she of the " belle petite " figure, and other charms 
 too numerous to mention, that were wont, at e\ ery appearance upon the stage, 
 to draw forth the unbounded plaudits of the admiring audience. As I picture, 
 in imagination, all these old by-gone scenes, I am moved by an almost uncon- 
 trollable desire to be back among you. 
 
 If you should happen to visit IST , come round to see me. Ask to see 
 
 the most important man in'the establishment, and they Avill immediately point 
 to me." 
 
 Sixty-eight is doing a very heavy business in the school-teaching line. We 
 have heard that fourteen of them are now engaged in that occupation. One 
 of them very recently astonished his friends, by assuming the direction of a 
 district school, of fifty members. We have permission to take a few extracts 
 from some letters he had received, relating to the subject. 
 
 Hillside, Sept. 1868. 
 
 "My dear Schoolmaster : — This is a little ahead of anything I ever heard 
 of. Will you look around and find a school — perhaps two of them — for 
 
 B , and me ? Look here, John, take the advice of one who has been 
 
 thrashed, and don't fiog those j-oung ones too much. I know your disposition, 
 and TD-Y pitj' for the scholars is only equalled by my wonder at the master. 
 
 Another piece of advice, — don't wade out too far. You know you are incau- 
 tious, and a trifle feehle, and some of those Eattleberry fellows will get you out 
 beyond your depth. Any girls in your school ? Do you fit for college ? If 
 
HOME MATTERS. 35 
 
 so, how many ? Did you have to pass an examination ? I don't know but 
 that it would be a good thing for me to teach, a year or so." 
 
 Here is another, on the same order : 
 
 H , September, 1868. 
 
 " Dear : — So you have gone to pedagoguing it, have you ? That 
 
 makes fourteen of us who are directing the young idea how to use the pop 
 gun. Your * shooting gallery ' being a country school, and probably requiring 
 the use of the birch and rattan ramrods, must contain several breech-loaders. 
 My scholars are quite well-behaved, and I don't expect to have to load that 
 end of them. I like my place much better than I expected I should. The 
 scholars, especially the girls, are good looking and smart, as a general thing, 
 though there are several decided blockheads among them. "We have a 'piano, 
 and the girls sing and play finelv, which of course suits me. The boys are 
 not so bright or attractive, (of course-) I have to keep a tight rein over some 
 of them. But I have too lately been a school-boy myself, and have too much 
 sympathy with their pranks, to come down very hard on them. One little 
 chap, with red, bristly hair all down his gray eyes ; a speckled face, and mouth 
 like a hole in the wall, sets me in a continual cachinnation, several times a 
 da.j, while I am trying to lay down the law to him. Imagine me slinging 
 fierce looks and withering language at the heads of offending youngsters. 
 
 H is a very pleasant place : not very social, I should think, among 
 
 the inhabitants, but still having many fine people. I have not been here long 
 enough to make many acquaintances, and have not seen many people I care to 
 know. But in a small town like this, the school teacher comes next to the 
 lawyers and doctors, so that I find mj-self the object of some attention, which 
 is hard on a modest man. I have been so busy that I have had no time to 
 feel home or college-sick. Yet, once in a while, I do wish I was back in old 
 H. C, or loafing in some '68 room. For all that, it is somewhat queer that I 
 have never once felt as if I would like to be cramming history, or laying 
 down the moral law to our dear old Prof. Once in a while some old college 
 song comes into my mind. The other night, I sat down to the piano and 
 played ' Pretty Jemima,' and ' Sparking, Sunday night,' in quite a melancholy 
 manner. But I suppose we're all right, and will enjoy ourselves the better 
 when we meet again, as I hope we shall often. We ought to have a '68 flag, 
 to hang out of some college window, about Commencement time. 
 
 I am expecting a letter from the ' Parson ' about our class matters. Do you 
 know what Eben is doing ? I should like to pop in on Scam, and see him lay- 
 ing down the law to the youngsters, like Goliah to David. I suppose it does 
 
 come hard on poor to work right along. If he uses up the oils of the 
 
 firm as he used to demolish the hair oil, good-bye ^>'o/?^s. But I must stop here. 
 I'm glad to have heard from you. Give me another, soon, of the same sort. 
 
 Yours ever in '68, 
 
 P. S. — Your P. S., telling me if I didn't get your letter to let you know, 
 reminds me of the Irishman who wrote at the end of his epistle — ' If you 
 don't get this, write me the date of it and I'll bust the postmaster's eye.' " 
 
36 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 Hammer & Tongs. 
 
 This society has entered upon its second year with good prospects and full 
 numhers. It is intended, not tor a mere burlesque as the name might lead one 
 to imagine, nor, on the other hand, for a heavy literary society ; hut for a 
 central social organization. It is intended to he the source of pleasant, 
 seasonable amusement; to cultivate the arts of Ehetoric and Logic, as well as 
 to woo the muses ; and to give to its members, by association with one another, 
 that external and internal polish, that true refinement of mind and manner, 
 which should be one of the tendencies of our college life. This refinement is 
 wanting among us, and the most decided mark of its absence is the fact that 
 we do not generally know, even, that it is wanted. The healthy association 
 of a large society is the best way to obtain it, and it was with this view that 
 the H. & T. was started. It is for this reason that the Faculty approve it, 
 and for this aim that it deserves the respect of the community. 
 
 The elections are made on strictly impartial grounds, and any good fellow 
 who makes himself a man of mark in college matters, may expect to become 
 "A Hammer and a Tong." 
 
 Base Ball. 
 
 The principal event in base ball thus far this term, has been the game with 
 Harvard, played on Saturday, the twenty-first of September. The score was 
 as follows : 
 
 BROWN. HARVARD. 
 
 O. R. O. R. 
 
 Munro, 70, c, 5 1- Smith, '69, 3, 3 4 
 
 Herreshoff, '70, p., 3 2 Peabody, '69. 1, 2 6 
 
 Fales, '70, 1, 4 1 Eustace, '71, r., 4 3 
 
 Woodworth, '71, 2, 3 2 Bush, '71, c, 4 4 
 
 Taylor, '70, 3, 2 2 Willard, '69, s., 5 2 
 
 Smith, '69, s., 1 3 Eawle, '69, m., 6 
 
 Jewell, '71, 1., 2 1 Shaw, '69, 1., 3 4 
 
 Colwell, '70, m., 5 1 Austin, '71, 2, 3 5 
 
 Hitchcock, '70, r., 2 2 Soule, '70, p., 4 3 
 
 27 15 27 37 
 
 123456789 
 Brown, 01010920 2—15 
 Harvard, 07530623 11—37 
 Umpire — Mr. John A. Lowell, of the Lowell Club. 
 
 Scorers — Mr. J. P. Mason, for Harvard, and Mr. Daniel Beckwith, for 
 Brown. 
 
 In justice to our club, we ought to say, that the very reprehensible careless- 
 ness of one of their number, obliged them to put an inferior player on the 
 nine, on the morning of the game, and to move several fellows out of their 
 regular places. Besides this, the catcher was almost disabled by a lame arm. 
 As besides these drawbacks, some very exceptional bad and careless playing 
 
HOME MATTERS. 37 
 
 was exhibited on our side, we persist in thinking that a game where all should 
 do themselves and the college justice, would have a very different result. 
 
 By the courtesy of the Harvards, the nine enjoyed the trip immensely, not- 
 withstanding their defeat. After the game, a superb entertainment was par- 
 taken of by the nines. Our steady, old pitcher, who did wonders in the game, 
 was not too much fatigued, to astonish the natives by his display of prowess at 
 the dinner ; and report says that the nine, in general, were not behind hand at 
 the festive board. 
 
 Return matches with Harvard and the Lowells, are expected to take place 
 within a month. 
 
 The College Boat Club. 
 
 Boating matters in the college have received a new impetus this term. By 
 the praiseworthy efforts of Messrs. Brown, Beckwith, and others, the boat 
 club has been reorganized and largely increased in numbers ; the boat house 
 has been enlarged and renovated ; the wharf has been repaired ; and two six 
 oared shells (second-hand,) have been procured for practice. Two crews now 
 practice three hours daily, laboring hard to acquire a knowledge of the noble 
 art of rowing. 
 
 It is certainly desirable that this most delightful sport of rowing should 
 become a custom among us. Its natural fitness as an amusement for the stu-- 
 dents' leisure hours is evident. It is the pleasantest and most effectual way 
 of taking that daily exercise which each of us has found to be so necessary to 
 his existence. 
 
 We are glad that the unsurpassed aquatic advantages afforded by the pleas- 
 ant Seekonk are to be improved, and we hope the stout boatmen may soon 
 learn to 
 
 " Feather their oars like jolly young watermen," 
 
 for the honor of old Brown. 
 
 We notice a sensible improvement this year in the singing at prayers. This 
 is due to the better balance of the parts, owing to the departure of some very 
 heavy bass voices with the class of '68, and the addition of a number of tenors 
 from the Freshman class. The bass last year was so powerful as to be oppres- 
 sive at times. Our chapel singing is mass singing in the true sense of the word. 
 Everybody joins, not with<the feeble pipe so common in devotional amateurs, 
 but with the full strength of young and powerful lungs. The result, as a 
 distinguished visitor once said, is "massive and grand." 
 
 A Reading Room. 
 
 In a college which is so exceptionally literary as Brown, it is especially 
 necessary that the students should have access to the current literature of the 
 day. This is the best antidote for the book- worm tendency which a mad is so 
 
38 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 likely to acquire in groping among the delicious fastnesses of the dark ages, 
 and the works of fascinating authors who died centuries ago. J^ewspapers 
 stir him up and keep him reminded of the practical side of life which is to 
 turn so abruptly towards him when he leaves the still old walls which have 
 for four years protected him from the knocks and stern requisitions of the 
 world. They tend to make him a live man of his own generation, rather than 
 a misplaced member of another age of society. 
 
 In many of our colleges this want has been felt and supplied. Amherst, 
 Yale and others havie one or two college reading rooms. Here the students 
 can read the productions of those who have finished the course of culture in 
 which they are engaged, and mark the reception which its accorded them by 
 the work-a-day world. Here the}"- can read the histories of to-day, in which 
 the study of the history of other days is fitting them to take a part. Brown, 
 however, has no such institution. The religious reviews which stand uncut 
 on the library table, and the odd numbers of the New York Evening Post and 
 D wight's Journal of Music, which sometimes appear there, are the only current 
 literature to which the Brown students have access. We except, of course, 
 Mr. Guild's private daily paper, the Providence Herald, for which there is a 
 great rush every morning. 
 
 We do not wish to implj'- that the library should be supplied with the daily 
 and weekly papei's and monthly magazines. By no means. It would be a 
 manifest incongruity. Who could enjoy London Punch or any such irrever- 
 ent production, in the classic atmosphere of that delightful old cloister. We 
 do, however, propose and suggest, at the instance of some of the most enlight- 
 ened men in college, that a Eeading Room Association be at once formed, which 
 shall satisfy this imperative demand. A room would be gladly furnished by 
 the faculty, which would sufiice for the beginning of the project. 1'hen sup- 
 pose one hundred subscribei's at the rate of seventy-five cents per term, and 
 we have seventy-five dollars. Allow twenty dollars for stove and fuel, and 
 five dollars for chairs, and fifty dollars remain to purchase papers. With this 
 we can procure for six months the Atlantic, Harper's, Littell's Living Age, 
 Putnam's, London Society, Cornhill, or some standard English magazine. 
 Punch, The Round Table, The Nation, Every Saturday, The Tribune, some 
 Democratic daily, (if anybody wants one,) The New York Evening Post, 
 Providence papers and others. 
 
 A move in this direction will be made immediately, and we believe that it is 
 unnecessary for us to bespeak for it a hearty reception by the college. 
 
 Bishop Seabury Association. 
 
 An interesting pamphlet will be published at an early day, under the 
 auspices of the Bishop Seabury Associaition. It will contain an Introduction, 
 by the Rev. Dr. Waterman, of Providence ; a letter by Bishop Williams ; and 
 and two sermons preached before the Association, by the Rev. Drs. Dix, and 
 Ewer, of New York. This publication will command an extensive sale outside 
 of those immediately interested in the Association. 
 
HOME MATTERS 39 
 
 President's Prizes. 
 
 The names of the successful competitors for the President's prizes, are as 
 follows : 
 
 First prize in Latin, W. S. Liscomh ; second prize in Tiatin, J. E. Crane, Jr. 
 First prize in Greek, J. E. Crane, Jr. ; second prize in Greek, L. M. Barber. 
 
 "We regret that we are unable to give an extended account of the first meet- 
 ing of the Alumni, on the day before Commencement. This new movement 
 is fraught with much good for the University. But no decided action could be 
 taken at the first meeting, except to consider the state of the institution and 
 the relation of the Alumni to it, and to appoint committees to confer upon the 
 post graduate scholarships, the improvement of the library and the other 
 matters which were brought forward. Although no decided action was taken, 
 the meeting was a most satisfactory one. The tone of the speeches, the vivid 
 love for the college which was breathed in them, and the lofty character of the 
 men who were present, both as speakers and listeners, were calculated to 
 warm the heart of every true " Brown boy " with a glow of satisfaction. It 
 may be depended upon that the action of the Alumni next year will amount 
 to something. 
 
 Lectures. 
 
 There exists in this University a want which has been felt and expressed by 
 several, and which is unconsciously evinced by many others. It is the want 
 of more lectures, and the hope that a little agitation of the question will 
 secure them, leads to the present expression of this feeling. 
 
 We by no means wish to be understood as endeavoring to hint that the lec- 
 tures in Greek and Latin, which the catalogue modestly promises shall be fur- 
 nished in these departments during the Sophomore year, are not intensely 
 interesting, complete, and delivered at a time, best fitted for awakening interest 
 in the study of the authors in hand, and for fastening knowledge permanentlj', 
 rather than simply for cramming a few of the best students so that they will 
 appear well at examination. Let the voluminous lecture books, so neatly and 
 studiously preserved on these subjects, testify upon these points. We refer 
 now to another class of lectures, just as practical, and, at present, it would 
 seem, entirely overlooked by our able Professors. To secure well-directed 
 labor, and consequently highest success, each Freshman class needs a course of 
 lectures, which shall fully explain the nature of the work upon which it 
 enters, the relations of the studies to each other, habits of study to be secured 
 or avoided, the use of the library, what to read and how to read, college rela- 
 tionships, and other subjects of this nature. We need an observatory, a 
 gymnasium, a library building, a reading room ; but even these wants are 
 scarcely more pressing than the one to which we now call attention. Most 
 students here come with the purpose of doing much hard work. They intend 
 to employ faithfully everj' advantage afforded. But under the present 
 system there is, according to the testimony of many upper-class men, much ill- 
 directed labor, simply because the students are left to gain, by experience, 
 
40 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 through t-wo or three years of study, what a few hours of teaching would give 
 them. Perhaps those who have fathers of literary culture and hahits, and 
 who have been brought uf) in the midst of libraries, understand on entering 
 college the subjects referred to, but a large proportion, we venture to say, are 
 ignorant of them, not from anj^ chronic mental weakness, but simply from lack 
 of what are termed literary advantages. 
 
 How much more zest and interest would be imparted, could the student 
 have unfolded to him a knowledge of the curriculum of study upon which he 
 enters ; if he could be lifted for a few moments above the lowlands of Fresh- 
 man inexperience and ignorance, and placed upon the heights (comparative) 
 of Senior experience and knowledge ! Very many students do not know how 
 to study, how to fasten a lesson and make it tell rapidly on the stock of knowl- 
 edge gained. Some are foolishly afraid of studying too hard, do not want to 
 strain the energies of their youthful minds, and hence they lose the immense 
 advantages gained by concentrated, intense study for a limited period. But* 
 perhaps no lecture in this contemplated course is more needed than one upon 
 the use of the library. It is without doubt true, that no college library is 
 more used than ours, a fact due to the manly, confidential way in which the 
 books are presented to the free examination of the students, and to the energy, 
 industry and gentlemanly qualities of our librarian. Yet with the superior 
 facilities in these respects, there is too great ignorance of the contents of the 
 library. Sometimes it is long before one finds out that there is an index to 
 the reviews ; or before he finds that the bound catalogue is very incomplete, 
 and that a manuscript one is accessible. In many cases, too, the little green 
 placards hung at the entrances to the alcoves unduly drive away the unsophis- 
 ticated. It takes time to learn that they are like the college laws — serving as 
 scarecrows rather than requiring obedience. Modesty prevents many from 
 asking for a book, even when curiosity or desire is awakened to read it, and 
 the most valuable knowledge is lost, because men do not know how and where 
 to get it. If some one of the Professors or the Librarian would devote an 
 hour each year to this work, the advantages reaped would be immensely 
 increased. The library would cease to be to many a great storehouse of tools 
 whose beauty they admire, but of whose use they are ignorant : or a grand 
 temple where they reverently worship, caught up on the inspiration infused by 
 beholding so many monuments of man's genius, instead of being also, as it 
 ought to be, a vast assemblage of teachers, at wliose feet they may joyously sit. 
 
 College and class relationships are very imperfectly understood by many. 
 Some good men lose respect by holding their heads too high, and find a 
 change of college scenery most conducive to their happiness ; while others let 
 their modesty overcome them, still submit to the nursery regulations of their 
 childhood, and creep along so low, that their power is lost, and sometimes pity, 
 and even disgust excited for their lack of genuine manliness. Some over- 
 estimate the advantages of society, and give to its excitements time demanded 
 elsewhere, while others overlook it almost altogether, and foster a diffidence, 
 and an fe,wkwardness which will debar them from valuable situations, other- 
 wise easily accessible. 
 
 Many other topics might be presented, but the foregoing will be sufficient to 
 vindicate the want which evidently exists. A general expression of this, we- 
 
HOME MATTEES. 41 
 
 are sure, will meet with a supply, since it can te furnished so easily. Lectures 
 of this kind are given at Harvard, and at other institutions, and even if they 
 were not, the propriety and necessity of having them, arc too ohvious to need 
 discussion. Other lectures of a different nature might be given to the other 
 classes. There is a lamentable want of thought and discussion here. Wo 
 need something to awaken us. 
 
 Reading on these subjects would not accomplish much, but a little plain talk 
 from some of our honored Professors would do much toward removing these 
 errors, which are oftener of the head than the heart. No new lecturers need 
 be brought ip. Abundant ability is known to exist in the present Faculty, 
 and we only desire a comparatively small amount of additional labor from 
 those who now so ably instruct us in the class-room. Can it not he furnished ? 
 
 The Editor's Window Seat. 
 
 The Round Table claims that Prof. Harkness has a rival rn Mr. William 
 Bingham, of North Carolina, the autl\or of a series of Latin text-books, recently 
 published in Philadelphia. It would appear that the new series is a develop- 
 ment of the synthetic plan of beginning the study of the classics, borrowed 
 from the German, by Dr. Arnold, and introduced into American schools by 
 Prof. HarkneSs, to supersede the old analytic method of the grammars. 
 Whether Mr. Bingham, aided by the results of the labors of Spencer and 
 Harkness, has surpassed his predecessors, the Round TaUe does not affirm posi- 
 tively, but claims superiority for him, mainly in the more rapid development 
 of the verb, better rules for the genders, and a more condensed form. The 
 Round Table speaks of Harkness' Grammar, as " the best grammar, take it for 
 all in all, that has thus far appeared in our country." 
 
 The College Courant of Yale believes in small wit and plenty of it. Under 
 the head of Pepper-box, ("Pyxis Piperis,") our friend waxeth very facetious 
 over the recent gift of the Messrs. Hazard to the University. " E. G. Hazard," 
 it says, " and his son, ITowland Hazard, have just given $40,000 for the 
 endowment of a professorship in Brown University. Poor Brown ! An insti- 
 tution of learning is certainly to be pitied when it has to resort to Hazard for 
 endowments." The mis-spelling of Mr. Rowland Hazard's name in the first 
 line is intended for a joke, no doubt. There was a splendid chance for another 
 joke there, if the Courant had only seen it. Why not call him Howling Haz- 
 ard, and ask why Brown would insist on Howling besides her Hazard ? 
 
 "But is it moral or commendable," proceeds the Courant, ix\. a strain of 
 exquisite sarcasm, " to maintain a professorship by Hazard ?" " Or," with a 
 final outburst of fun, " is the professorship itself a Hazard ?" 
 
 It is very hazardous, for more reasons than one, for the Courant to inaugu- 
 rate such jokes as these. It should remember Yale has a name, and according 
 to this system, anybody or anything which has a name, is liable to be tremen- 
 dously peppered. This style of joke can be produced in any quantity. Our 
 devil suggests the following specimen : Why may New Haven students be 
 said to prefer malt liquor ? Ana — Because they are great at (Y)ale, but feeble 
 
 on water. 
 6 
 
42 • HOME MATTERS. 
 
 At the recent Chinese reception, in Boston, the only references to contem- 
 porary educational matters, singularly enough, were to the works of Brown 
 hoys. Mr. Burlingame, speaking of the great scholar, Tung Tajen, mentions 
 as his great work, the translation of Henry Wheaton's International Law, 
 into Chinese ; and Mr. Emerson spoke with high praise of Hon. T. A. Jenckes' 
 bill which demands that candidates for public office shall pass a literary ex- 
 amination. 
 
 International celebrations are pleasant i)laces to hear from our graduates. 
 
 A distant western exchange directs to " Brownanian University ! ! " Why 
 don't they stick on another syllable for euphony ? Brownanianist would 
 sound still better. 
 
 Gentlemen of leisure upon the campus, were somewhat startled a few morn- 
 ings ago, at seeing a cradle brought to the south door of "Hope." The class 
 infant of '72, soon appeared and solved all doubts, by shouldering it and 
 carrying it to his room. Sweet be his Freshman sleep in the wavy little 
 couch ! 
 
 Who shall say that this is not an age of progress. Out on the Pacific rail- 
 road, cities, such as once took centuries to grow, come springing up in a single 
 night, like Aladdin's palace. Young folks now know more at sixteen than 
 their parents at sixty ; and the great Mrs. Henry Wood writes nine thousand 
 words in a day, while such poor old poky fellows as Oliver Goldsmith could 
 only write seventy-five. 
 
 There is a certain student, who may always be seen on Westminster street, 
 Saturday afternoon. He has attracted a good deal of attention by his regular 
 habit of spending that afternoon there. The reason will be evident from the 
 following effusion which he has had the temerity to send in. Any repetition 
 of the act will be punished by exposing his name. 
 
 I love a girl of sweet sixteen ; 
 
 Dewey lip and dancing eye, 
 Rounded ankle, dimly seen, 
 
 When the wind stirs her drapery. 
 
 She has not learned to simper and sigh, — 
 
 The '"' German" does not fill her brain ; — 
 If she says she likes you, she does not lie, 
 •Nor plight her troth to break again. 
 
 I love the bright, pure air of morn — 
 
 I love spring grass, so fresh and green ; — 
 
 But lovelier still is life's full dawn, 
 
 As it shines in the eye, at sweet sixteen. 
 
 Breath of perfume and heart of gold, 
 
 Unsullied yet by the world's hard dints ; — 
 
 I loved one first when eight years old, 
 And I've loved one or more ever since. 
 
 1 
 
COLLBGIANA. 43 
 
 The article on "Haze," is rather too nebulous, and requires a careful re- 
 vision. The author of "The Student's Dream," evidently got to napping 
 over his work. 
 
 -oOo- 
 
 HARVARD has $230,000 toward her Memorial Hall.— At Commencement, the 
 graduates numbered seventy-six. The degree of liL. D., was conferred as 
 follows : Ehenezer Rockwood Hoar, of Concord ; Admiral Charles Henry 
 Davis, Andrew Atkinson Humphreys, Evangelius Apostalides Sophocles, James 
 McCosh, President of Princeton College. — The Mound I'alle speaks thus disre- 
 spectfully of Commencement at Harvard: "A better display of unmitigated 
 humbug and downright puerility in the name of learning, and under the 
 sanction of reasonable men, could not be well imagined. — Next year Commence- 
 ment will come in June — the Tuesday after Class Day — and all the festivities 
 of the college will be condensed into those two daj's. — Jacob N. Knapp, the 
 oldest graduate of Harvard, died at Walpole, N. H., on the 27th of July, in 
 his ninety-fifth je?iv. He graduated in 1802. Of one hundred and twenty 
 young gentlemen just admitted to the Freshman class, only fourteen entered 
 without conditions. 
 
 YALE. The whole number of applications for admission to Yale this year 
 was one hundred and ninety -eight. Of these, sixty-seven were admitted without 
 conditions, one hundred and sixteen were conditioned and fifteen were rejected. 
 The class will probably number one hundred and seventy-five. — A Connecticut 
 Democratic paper stated that Gen. F. P. Blair is a graduate of Yale College 
 and the New Haven Journal explains : " Gen. Blair graduated at Yale quite 
 prematurely. It took him less than a year to ' go through ' college." — S. F. 
 B. Morse, Esq., has given to the theological seminary at Yale, the sum of ten 
 thousand dollars towards the erection of a new divinity hall. — One of the stu- 
 dents will marry no one but Anna Dickinson. 
 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY. On a beautiful hill just rising above the town of 
 Ithaca, New York, and sloping gradually down to the edge of Cayuga lake, there 
 is now rising a University which is expected to rank at the outset among the 
 great ones of the world. We have succeeded in making almost everything 
 quicker and better in this country than it can be done in any other, and Cor- 
 nell University represents this principle as applied to colleges. The arrange- 
 ments for the institution are of the most magnificent order. In the main col- 
 lege yard five grand halls, built of the native blue granite, are in an advanced 
 stage of construction. To the rear a large laboratory is to be built, and across 
 a fine river which flows near, another dormitory building stands completed, 
 which is alone capable of containing three hundred students.. The main 
 
44 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 college buildings are arranged precisely like those of Brown, and on a similar 
 eminence. Back of them is the splendid farm, given by Mr. Cornell, extend- 
 ing over two hundred acres. On this farm, Mr. Cornell intends that indigent 
 students shall work at a fair rate of wages, to defray the light expenses of their 
 course. On this farm may he seen grazing, the finest herd of cattle in the 
 country, the gift of ^Ir. Cornell to the Agricultural Department. 
 
 The immense sums of money requisite for carrying on the institution, on 
 such a scale, have been obtained by an agreement between Mr. Cornell and 
 the State of New York, by which the former secured all the New York State 
 College lands to this one institution, through the promise of a lai;ge additional 
 gift from his own resources. Some other private individuals have aided, but 
 the great bulk of the property of the college, is the donation of Mr. Cornell, 
 and of the State. The State gave its educational lands to the college, just as 
 Rhode Island recently gave her lands to our University — on condition that one 
 student from each of the hundred and twenty -eight educational districts of 
 the State, should be yearly received free of tuition fees. The students to be 
 selected from their respective districts for superior scholarship. These lands 
 are one million of acres in extent. They will probably average one dollar and 
 a half an acre in value ; making the State endowment worth one million and 
 a half of dollars. Mr. Cornell's gifts amount in all to about seven hundred and 
 fifty thousand dollars. 
 
 The faculty, again, shows the power of the almighty dollar. Some of the 
 greatest men in the country have been engaged to perform the various duties 
 of the University. The resident professors have been chosen with great good 
 judgment. They are all young men who will grow with the University, and 
 can and will make their reputation there. The President, the Hon. Andrew 
 D. White, LL. D., is himself a very young man, about the age of Dr. Way- 
 land when he became President of Brown. These are the men who are to 
 bear the burden and heat of the day, but among the non-resident professors 
 who are to put the finishing strokes and fine touches on the work, we find 
 names of very different men, — men who have already made the world ring 
 with their fame. Among these are Prof. Agassiz, Prof. Gold win Smith, Gov. 
 Holbrook, of Verment, James Hall, State Geologist of New York, James 
 Eussell Lowell, George William Curtis and Theodore W. Dwight. 
 
 President White has been in Europe for some time, procuring books and 
 apparatus for the institution. The Jewett collection of Paleontology and 
 Geology has also been purchased. In the arrangement of every department, 
 the greatest judgment and most unlimited generosity have been displayed. 
 The college is now under the direction of a board of trustees, of which Mr. 
 Cornell is chairman. 
 
 We have no doubt that this grand project will meet the success which it 
 deserves. We shall await its opening with great interest, and further partic- 
 ulars will appear in the next number of the " Brunonian.'" 
 
 AMHERST. At a recent meeting of the Alumni, it was voted to erect a 
 mural tablet, and $1,500 is to be raised by them for that purpose. — Amherst has 
 lately had a gift of $30,000, from William Stearns, son of President Stearns, 
 a wealthy merchant of Bombay. — The treasurer reports that the institu- 
 tion is now worth more than a million dollars, and free from debt. 
 
COLLEGIANA. 45 
 
 WILLIAMS. Williams has a monument to her sons who fell in the war. 
 The freestone shaft is sixteen feet high, and is surmounted hy a bronze figure 
 of a soldier. It is erected by the Alumni, at a cost of between eight and nine 
 thousand dollars. — The Freshman class number forty -five. Various changes 
 have been made in the faculty, course of study, time of vacations, and text 
 books. The Yale plan of a long summer vacation has been adopted, much to 
 the satisfaction of the students. — The reign of tutors is over at Williams ; 
 henceforth all instruction is to be given by Professors. — The late Prof. Dewey, 
 of Rochester University, has left to Williams his extensive and valuable col- 
 lection of carices, one of the best in this country, and also his library on the 
 subject of the carices, including Dr. Bott's great work, in four volumes, worth 
 $60 a volume. Williams is going to have an art gallery, with two large halls 
 for the open library societies, to be erected just west of the gymnasium ; and 
 the frame building now on that site, is to be removed and converted into a 
 college boarding house, on the common sj^stem. 
 
 PRINCETON. The 27th of October has been fixed upon for the inauguration, 
 of Dr. McCosh, as President of Princeton. Gov. Pollock, Senator Stockton, 
 and others will make addresses. The occasion will be one of great interest. — 
 The funds of Princeton have, by earnest efforts and generous liberality, been 
 increased till they reach an aggregate of $250,000, of which $150,000 has been 
 raised during the last three or four years. Of this amount $60,000 has been 
 raised during the past year, as an endowment for the support of the President. 
 This has been contributed by about twenty men, in Nev^ Jersey and also in 
 New York. Besides this, $6,000 have been raised for refitting and furnishing 
 the President's house. Both these funds have been raised with direct reference 
 to his support and comfort. 
 
 MADISON. Edward Judson, the new Professor of Latin and Modern Lan- 
 guages, in Madison, is a graduate of Brown University, Glass of '65. 
 
 TRINITY. There is a curious custom at Trinity, of handing down a " lemon 
 squeezer" from class to class. It was begun in 1857, and the "squeezer" is 
 given to the class whose records show the greatest number of college adven- 
 tures. The presentation takes place with appropriate ceremonies. — Trinity 
 has two political clubs, fully officered. 
 
 DARTMOUTH. Dartmouth has graduated over three thousand five hundred 
 and fifty persons. The degree of LL. D., has been conferred twenty-four 
 times, and D. D., one hundred and six times. — Professor Joel Parker, of Gam- 
 bridge, has been elected Professor of Law in Dartmouth, though a course of 
 annual lectures will comprise his duties for the present. — John C. Proctor, 
 of the class of 1864, has been appointed tutor in Latin and Greek, and Charles 
 F. Emerson, of Chelmsford, salutatorian of the class of 1868, will give instruc- 
 tion in mathematics, and take charge of the gymnasium, in place of Professor 
 Welch. 
 
 EXCHANGES. We wish to acknowledge the following exchanges: Harvard 
 Advocate, the Dartmouth, Yale Lit., Hamilton Campus, Williams College Vidette, 
 Amherst Student, Michigan University Magazine, the College Argus, the Trinity 
 Tablet, the CoUegian, the Griswold Collegian, College Bays, College Courier. 
 
GEORGE H. WHITNEY, 
 
 BLANK BOOK MANUMCTUEEE, 
 
 AND 
 
 IE' Ky Z IsT T El K;, 
 No. 3 Westminster Street, - Providence, R. I. 
 
 College. Lecture and Text Books 
 
 ^T 1L.OTV P»K,1CES. 
 
 JAMES TOLMAN 
 
 m\imi fmlm 
 
 111 Washington Street, 
 
 (Between Court and School Streets,) 
 
 BOSTON. 
 
utiMntatt* 
 
 F-OX II. 
 
 DAVID DOWNIE, Jr. 
 
 JOSEPH C. ELT, 
 
 A.I»KI3L„ 1869. 
 
 EDITORS FOB '69. 
 
 HENET T. GRANT, Jr., 
 
 EDITORS FOR '70. 
 
 I. NELSON FORD, 
 
 jyo. 3. 
 
 FRANK LAWTON, Jr., 
 
 WAITER C. HAMM. 
 
 TEMTSON'S POWER. 
 
 The question is often asked, who is the greatest poet of our 
 day. It does not receive the same answer throughout any one 
 city or village. Different temperaments require different food; 
 different tastes are pleased with different styles of thought ; dif- 
 ferent life experiences demand different strains of consolation ; 
 and so on this question men differ. Perhaps in the opinion of 
 a majority Tennyson holds the highest rank. Very many will 
 be found who affirm that he of living authors has the finest and 
 best tempered poetic genius. Longfellow, who constructs 
 melodiously tinkling rhyme and often gives us fine sentiment ; 
 Whittier, whose verse is made strong and ringing by practicality 
 and manly heartiness ; Lowell, the " faultily faultless," the schol- 
 ar but not the genius ; Matthew Arnold, who, though having 
 much grace and delicacy of thought, fails to reach the common 
 heart ; and Robert Browning, who is condemned as too philo- 
 sophical to attain the highest success in poetry ; these are per- 
 haps the only poets of the present day that can compete with 
 him for the palm of superiority. Each of these authors has a 
 retinue of admiring courtiers, who worship him as the kingly 
 poet of the age. But Tennyson differs from these in style both 
 
96 tentsttson's powee. 
 
 of thought and expression. He surpasses them all in originality, 
 a quality wliich constitutes the most important distinction be- 
 tween genius and scholarly finish. We find in his writings a 
 somewhat of peculiar richness and poetic grace. While reading, 
 our interest reaches deeper than the characters portrayed or the 
 story told, and we are drawn toward the man himself. He wins 
 his way to the heart, which is the poet's proper home in our 
 natures, even if he does not stir the mind by giant thoughts. 
 He is an exemplary poet, if not a keen logician or philosopher. 
 By all who have a taste for the truly poetic, Tennyson is held 
 in high esteem. It is not easy to tell what constitutes the pow- 
 er, by which he gains this favor, but it has several obvious 
 elements which may be pondered with profit. Its most appar- 
 ent feature is a fine command of the English language and good 
 taste in its use. No reader can fail to notice that Tennyson has 
 uncommon sldll in fitting the right word to its place. He is an 
 expert and tasty workman in mosaics. He employs words de- 
 rived from all the elements that make up our language, but the 
 Saxon is by far the most common. The presence of this element 
 gives great force to his verse. His range in the use of words is 
 very broad, yet he never sins by unlawful coinage. He may 
 compound words oddly, he may employ some that have not been 
 penned since the days of Spencer, but he never introduces those 
 that are new or questionable. In speaking of Tennyson's com,- 
 mand of language we mean more than a knowledge of our 
 tongue. Others perhaps have been as well acquainted with the 
 language, as doubtless were Gray and Byron, but neither they 
 nor others, for at least a century, have put their knowledge to as 
 good practical application. The proper use of language is a 
 more important element of a writer's success than it may be 
 esteemed. However rich, beautiful or powerful a thought may 
 be, its power or beauty will be lessened, if it be not well pre- 
 sented. Just as in dress, beauty of person is detracted from by 
 ill-fitting clothing, so beauty or symmetry of thought cannot 
 appear to good advantage, if it be not robed in appropriate and 
 fitting expression. Then too the writer, who cannot state a 
 thought directly and pungently, who is forced to employ circum- 
 locutions, fails to impress his readers. Such dilation always 
 
Tennyson's powee. 97 
 
 results in dilution, and such a A^Titer's style is sure to be clumsy 
 and lacking in sprightliness. Hence it is that we speak of our 
 poet's command and good use of language as an important ele- 
 ment of his success. 
 
 Tennyson's descriptions add greatly to his power. Ability 
 to describe is one of the chief requisites for success in poetry ; 
 since poetry is in part the language of the imagination, and 
 since of necessity the imaginative demands nicer and more vivid 
 description than the real. The latter needs but suggestions and 
 the mind can complete the scene from memory or judgment, but 
 the former is to the reader new and strange, and cannot be accu- 
 rately surmised. Our author's descriptions form a characteristic 
 feature of his poetry. They are always remarkably clear and 
 vivid and yet are never far protracted. Many, when first they 
 saw the picture, now so common, of Longfellow's Evangeline, 
 as she sits in the lonely graveyard and looks sadly and hope- 
 lessly out toward the sea, said within them that it was different 
 from the picture of the same scene, drawn by their own fancies. 
 The description in the poem, though beautiful, is not exact. 
 Hence different pictures might illustrate this scene. But Ten- 
 nyson is never thus indefinite. His descriptions are minutely 
 precise, and by some such artifice as a metaphor, expressing 
 more than many lines of plain comment could, all minds . are 
 confined to nearly the same conception of the scene. And hence, 
 when looking at Dore's illustrations, we find that they in the 
 main correspond to the conceptions our own minds have formed. 
 The poet Laureate's sketches of scenes and places are all drawn 
 by a few masterly touches at proper points, just as a picture is 
 clearly outlined by genius with a few strokes of the brush. In 
 fact painting and poetry are near akin, and we should not be 
 very inaccurate, did we call Tennyson a painter, though per- 
 haps he never touched the palette. Poetry is painting animated, 
 endowed with thought and passion. The last part of the third 
 paragraph of " Elaine," where Arthur finds the diamond crown, 
 well exemplifies what has been said about our author's vivid 
 delineation. There is one peculiarity about Tennyson's sketches. 
 The scene of a story is seldom fully drawn at the beginning or 
 at any one place in the poem, as is done by most writers. The 
 
98 Tennyson's power. 
 
 description of the scene and the development of the plot move on 
 together, and the former is not complete, till the latter ends. 
 Review his narrative poems and you will find few paragraphs in 
 which the place is pictured apart from the story. Yet even 
 after the first reading, you had a clear and definite conception of 
 the scene. To describe is a difficult task in itself, but it is far 
 more difficult to thus weave in the different threads separately, 
 look upon our work with the eye of an unacquainted observer, 
 and realize that it is all there. For skill thus displayed, our 
 author deserves additional credit. Tennyson's descriptions have 
 then, besides their vividness, this peculiarity in the arrangement 
 of parts. 
 
 A poet's ability is judged in part by his use of figurative lan- 
 guage. If we examine our author by this standard, we find liis 
 merit as great as in other respects. His Tropes assist greatly 
 towards that power of description just considered. They never 
 seem labored, are never borrowed or common. He inserts no 
 simile or metaphor simply because of its beauty, but these always 
 add to the vividness of the scene or the force of the thought. 
 His metaphors are all so natural and applicable that he may al- 
 most be said to thinlc in them ; so little planning do they seem 
 to receive from the constructive Reason. We cite several, as 
 examples. They are taken at intervals from his poems. In 
 Maud he speaks of drowning the heart in " the gross mud-honey 
 of town." How forcibly and compactly does this express the 
 alloyed pleasure which city life affords. The heartless belle is 
 said to lure her victun on by "a moist mirage in desert eyes." 
 Geraint, after a combat, with the scowl of battle still lingering 
 on his face, is described as smiling "like a stormy sunlight." 
 The next is especially good both from the beauty of the meta- 
 phor and the density of the description. 
 
 " Often o'er the sun's bright eye 
 
 Drew the vast eyelid of an inky cloud." 
 
 The eagle stands on a lofty mountain crag and 
 
 " The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls." 
 
 When the maiden leaves her home to become a wife, 
 
 " hopes and light regrets that come 
 
 Make April of her tender eyes." 
 
Tennyson's power. 99 
 
 In addition to the intrinsic beauty of the next, it must be 
 remembered that the man, to whom the pronoun he refers, is 
 himself a bankrupt and in the autumn of his life. 
 
 ' ' And out he walk'd when the wind like a broken worldling wail'd, 
 And the flying gold of the ruined woodlands drove thro' the air." 
 
 These are but examples and by no means the best among the 
 many that are good. 
 
 Poetry must not be considered simply discourse in verse. It 
 is a style of thought^ and does not depend on the form of ex- 
 pression used. (If we do not assent to such a view, how shall 
 we interpret Emerson, where he calls Daniel Webster one of the 
 two greatest of American poets !) The proper sphere of poetry 
 is to give expression to the dreams of the fancy, to the emotions 
 of the heart, and to all that in thought is rich, graceful or sub- 
 lunating. An author's imagery, therefore, and his success in 
 portraying the sensibilities must constitute his chief claim to su- 
 periority of poetic genius. Tennyson's imagination is by all 
 acknowledged to be preeminently rich and original. The exam- 
 ples given under the previous head illustrate its force. His 
 delineations of the sensibilities are truthful and natural. He 
 understands the strength and the weakness of human nature, 
 and imparts this knowledge in an attractive manner. All the 
 emotions and passions, of which poets commonly treat, we find 
 exemplified in his poems. The affections of the heart, both 
 pure and base, its bitter grief, its sweUing joy, its hopeful long- 
 ings, its fears and its darkening doubts are all portrayed, some- 
 times with such new combinations of lights and shades, that the 
 emotion seems new to us, though we know it is the same that 
 the human heart has ever felt. In Maud, a fragmentary poem, 
 is given us a sweet dream of human love, — a portrayal of the 
 bitterness of disappointment, made more poignant by the re- 
 membrance of former happiness, and of a strong, manly will 
 rising in might to conquer passion and despair. In the "In 
 Memoriam," is expressed the poet's grief at the death of an in- 
 timate friend. How truthfully here are all the ebbing and 
 flowing tides of grief portrayed. ! First there is the groping 
 blindness that ensues upon the loss, then the struggling endea- 
 vor to rise above the sense of loneliness, the yearning and the 
 
100 Tennyson's powee. 
 
 depression caused by grief, until at length the chastened soul 
 comes out from the darkness into the full light of the triumph of 
 will and of faith. In these and other poems we think we trace 
 in a measure the experience of the author's own life. Especially 
 as we peruse the one last mentioned, we realize that we are 
 reading, not what the poet surmises others must feel in bereave- 
 ment, but the heart experience of one whose own lips have 
 pressed the bitter chalice. Herein is one element of his success, 
 for the writer who would move others himself must know and 
 feel. Thus far we have spoken only of those feelings, that are 
 common to the verse of all poets. But Tennyson has some passages 
 that touch upon feelings and passions not often depicted in 
 books. Thus in section xxiii of Maud is given a fantasy of 
 the insane. Few others have attempted so difficult a task, none 
 with better success. We cannot read this passage slowly and 
 attentively without reahzing, in some degree, the horrors of in- 
 sanity. Then too, our poet has some out-breathings of thoughts 
 and feelings, which we are almost startled to find upon a printed 
 page, which we imagined none but ourselves had ever experienced, 
 or which perhaps we never realized to be our own, until remind- 
 ed by another. It is a difficult task, for a painter to truly repre- 
 sent upon the canvas the fleeting cloud-shadows that float across 
 a landscape, but far more difficult is it to portray in truthful and 
 recognizable manner these light, fleeting shades of sentiment and 
 feeling that float dreamily across the vista of the soul. Our 
 poet possesses this power in an uncommon degree, and it is by 
 this especially that he wins our affections. For these delicate 
 and peculiar feelings, being common to author and reader, tend 
 to cause in the latter's mind belief in a similar life experience. 
 Such a belief creates sympathy, and sympathy is the germ of 
 love and friendship. Perhaps no one poem better displays thor- 
 ough acquaintance with the human heart than Guinevere, the 
 last of the Idyls of the King. 
 
 Tennyson's style is very direct. He expresses a sentiment in 
 the fewest words, relying upon the thought for success. When- 
 ever in the course of a narrative some general feeling or attri- 
 bute of our nature is exemplified, its generalization from the one 
 character in the story to aU men is given with the brevity of a 
 
Tennyson's powee. 101 
 
 maxim. Some are not pleased with this. They prefer that the 
 thought should be fully developed and illustrated, as is done by 
 many others. Yet upon this pithy dkectness depends true 
 success. The writer's aim should be to strengthen a reader's 
 mind. The profit that one derives from reading, does not con- 
 sist in the fact that by reading he is furnished with ideas, but 
 rather in this, that he is set to thinking for himself. The wri- 
 ter's thought should guide, but the reader's mind must debate 
 the thought presented, if it would gain strength. Hence to say 
 that Tennyson does not trace out his thoughts to their farthest 
 limits is commendation rather than disparagement. In all his 
 narrative poems our author carries the story directly forward. 
 He never tm-ns aside to generalize a thought not fairly illustrated 
 in the plot. His ampHfication of a sentiment or truth, being 
 thus derived without effort from the plot, gives at once an illus- 
 tration of the thought generalized and a proof of its truth. 
 Thus, in " Enid," when Geraint was riding unaccompanied, he 
 was suddenly assailed by a caitiff knight with a large band of 
 followers. Death seems inevitable. But the hero sets his 
 spear in rest, charges upon and overthrows Limours, the cai- 
 tiff knight. When the boon companions of the Earl see that 
 their leader is cast down, they flee in terror and leave him lying 
 in the public way. Then without warning, ado or further ex- 
 pansion comes the generalization ; — 
 
 " So vanisli friendsMps only made in wine." 
 
 Great power is imparted to this thought by its pith and direct 
 appUcability. Simphcity gives strength to all our author's 
 poetry. Though all may not be persuaded of it, it is yet true 
 that simplicity of language is power and often sublimity. The 
 less a thought is bundled up in words, the more forcibly does it 
 strike. The less it is arrayed in gaudy apparel, the more does 
 its natural beauty shine. What richness, by the very simplicity 
 of expression, is imparted to the following lines, with which 
 "Enid" closes. Such words remain in the reader's mind and 
 often return to him again, ever sweet as music he has heard in 
 dreams. 
 
102 WITH ARBUTUS. 
 
 " But rested in her fealty, till he crown'd 
 A happy life with a fair death, and fell 
 Against the heathen of the Northern Seas 
 In battle, fighting for the blariieless King. 
 
 There is a peculiarity in some of Tennyson's verses, that we 
 
 do not find elsewhere in writings of the present day. This is 
 
 the use of paradoxical and directly antithetical expressions. 
 
 What force is thus gained may be seen by examples. Maud is 
 
 described as 
 
 " Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, 
 Dead perfection, no more." 
 
 In "Elaine" we find this couplet. It refers to Launcelot's 
 guilty love for Guinevere. 
 
 " His honor rooted in dishonor stood, 
 And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true." 
 
 Thus we have considered Tennyson's power. Looking at 
 results rather than sources, we have touched only upon its 
 obvious elements, and those, the consideration of which is pro- 
 fitable. An appreciation of his genius can only be gained by 
 study of his works. This then must be left to the reader. Our 
 endeavor has been simply to examine into such features of this 
 poet's power, as are indicative of the cause of his success and 
 popularity. 
 
 WITH AEBUTUS. 
 
 Wandering o'er the hill- sides brown 
 Beyond the suburbs of the town. 
 These little flowerets I espied 
 Striving beneath the leaves to hide. 
 
 Quickly I knelt upon the place 
 To sever them from close embrace ; 
 I plucked the buds from mossy bed. 
 Then held them up, and to them said 
 
 " Go little flowerets, haste ye, go ! 
 Your simple fragrant beauty show 
 To her, who is beloved, as friend, 
 And may ye to her pleasure tend ! " 
 
smith's horse. 103 
 
 SMITH'S HOUSE. 
 
 During a foi'mer visit of the celebrated Daniel Pratt to Pro- 
 vidence, that gentleman gave an entertainment in the Horse 
 Guards Armory. His peculiarities were well known to a cer- 
 tain set of the young gentlemen down town, and it was under 
 their auspices that the entertainment was given. It comprised, 
 among other things, an " exhibition of the giant strength " of the 
 great adventurer. Dumb-bells, of different sizes, had been pro- 
 vided, and marked conspicuously with their various weights. 
 Some of them bore in large figures "100," others "500" and 
 two or three as hio-h as " 1000 lbs." Mr. Pratt went throug-h 
 his performances with these weights with scarcely an effort, and 
 the artistic manner in which he conducted liimself, seemed to 
 afford great delight to liis audience. He really believed that he 
 had held a thousand pounds at arm's length, wliile all the spec- 
 tators knew that the painted wooden bells weighed not more 
 than five or ten pounds. 
 
 But this instance of imposition upon Pratt, is not as apt to 
 our purpose, as some others which might be cited. It is only 
 because Pratt is so extensively known, that the above feature of 
 his pecuKar exhibitions is described. Here we have seen how some 
 waggish fellows made sport of a weak-minded man — indeed an 
 insane person. The case which follows is one of a different 
 character. The victim was one who might be said to have 
 " travelled," and was tolerably " sharp." 
 
 Every one knows that around turfmen and horse-jockies, 
 always hang a crowd of amateur sporting-men. The latter 
 while maintaining a fair amount of respectability in society, at 
 the same time are ambitious of making progress in the profes- 
 sion of the former. It was one of these amateurs — we will call 
 him Smith — who, a short time since, became the hero of the 
 following " seU." 
 
 Smith was induced to purchase a promising colt, and himself 
 undertook to do the training. All went well, for the colt soon 
 " stepped by " all the common roadsters. Smith talked loudly 
 in the club rooms about the future of his horse. Happening one 
 day to faU in with some "cracks," a trial of speed ensued, and 
 to gratify his vanity. Smith was allowed to come out ahead. 
 
 2 
 
104 smith's horse. 
 
 Elated, beyond measure, with his supposed success, he was 
 easily persuaded to drive his horse around the track on time. 
 The arrangements were soon completed. Professional men, and 
 a goodly number of invited friends, were present to witness the 
 performance of the new trotter, and a prodigal supply of refresh- 
 ment had been ordered by the susceptible owner. At length 
 Smith mounted his sulky and away he whirled. Three-quarters 
 were made, and as the pony came plunging down the home- 
 stretch, there went up cheer after cheer for Smith. Boldly he 
 demanded the time, and the answer came promptly — two twen- 
 ty-five. " But he must be witness himself to the noble work the 
 horse could do," they all cried, and soon a skilful driver took 
 the reins, while Smith's excited hand held the watch. A minute 
 went and hardly had the horse passed the first quarter — two 
 minutes and only half the mile. Smith looked about him and 
 saw the joke on every face. We need not conclude the recital of 
 this very practical " sell." Who is there that is ever so firmly on 
 his guard as not to be in danger of falling into some such trap ? 
 When the weak side of any man's character becomes too apparent, 
 there are not wanting those who may take advantage of it. 
 
 How many of us in the field of letters (should we venture 
 thereto) may meet with Smith's experience. We are ambitious of 
 becoming possessors of a good style, and of producing something 
 that will distinguish ourselves. In some moment of supposed 
 victory we may be congratulated that the prize is won. Then 
 at length comes the test, when too late for escape we may be 
 covered with shame and mortification, in the presence even of 
 our inferiors. An essay carefully compiled from a large file of 
 volumes may stamp a sophomore with fame. To be sure he 
 reads his paper in fear and trembling, lest some brilliant pas- 
 sage may be familiar to the professor or to the class. But the 
 ordeal is passed and his confidence strengthens. Through this 
 channel and that he hears with pleasure that he is a good wri- 
 ter. After a while he comes to believe that all the bright 
 thoughts in his essays originated with himself, and his confi- 
 dence in his own powers is complete. He is as susceptible of 
 flattery as Smith, and in the full career of his literary egotism, 
 may meet with some unexpected catastrophe. 
 
EEMINISCENCES OF MT. MOOSEILAUKE. 105 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF MT. MOOSEILAUKE. 
 
 It was a bright Monday morning that we, the party of ten, 
 set off from Profile Notch. Bright indeed it was after the tre- 
 mendous shower of the night before, that had drenched our tent 
 and all that it contained ; and reflected its cheerfulness from our 
 faces, not only on account of that intimate connection between 
 sunshine and good nature, but as it promised its warm light to 
 dry the soaked blankets and tent. 
 
 Down past the hotel, toward the west, we marched, jumping 
 here and there, the curiously grained brown pools left by 
 the rain of the preceding night. The stages were just starting 
 out, and with many farewells and wavings of handkerchiefs, 
 rolled around the corner and down the muddy road. Passing 
 the opening to Echo Lake, from whose wharf the roar of cannon 
 so often wakes the Titans slumbering beneath the opposite 
 hills, down the long slope of ground on the way to Bethlehem, 
 we turn off toward the left into a pleasant valley stretching out 
 toward the south, where, in the distance, our goal was plainly 
 visible. 
 
 Quietness seemed to brood over this spot, and although many 
 houses were along the side of the road, it seemed more still even 
 than the long sandy way through the seven-mile woods, or the 
 wild scenery of the Glen road winding below the snow patches 
 on the side of Mt. Washington, for there, at times, the stages 
 would dash by at fiill speed, covered on the outside and filled 
 within with gay and lively passengers, bringing one suddenly 
 back to the town and bustle. It seemed as if the place, with its 
 inhabitants, had been dozing and had not gone forward with the 
 usual wide-awake vigor of New England ; and to strengthen the 
 idea, at the open window of one cottage sat a woman spinning 
 at the wheel, and having around her neck a string of gold 
 beads, the ornament of years long gone by, from which, per- 
 chance, they had come an inheritance. 
 
 Off on the mountain sides the bare beds of rock, covered 
 with shallow sheets of water, glistened brightly in the sunshine. 
 Indeed, it was as if some giant knight having wrapped his 
 green mantle around him had lain down to sleep ; and it was 
 
106 KEMINISCENCES OF MT. MOOSEILAUKE. 
 
 his armoiu", his helmet and breastplate, that so glistened. Only 
 there could the mountain streams be seen, until at once they 
 rushed across the road, under some overhanging bank, where the 
 depths suggested large, dark trout, away among the alder 
 bushes and out of sight. Now the way passed through the 
 woods, at whose edge the pure rill of spring water enticed the 
 traveller to rest in the calm, bright, summer morning, and gaze 
 across the road into the depths of trees and plants, flecked here 
 with light and there with shadow. Thus through the quiet 
 shade or now by clustered cottages, the noontide found us at 
 the end of the valley and at the foot of the mountain. 
 
 But now the face of nature changed and the day was no lon- 
 ger bright. Dinner was quickly dispatched and the nooning 
 cut short, through fear fi'om the sudden approach of threatening 
 black clouds, from whose folds the rain fell almost ere we set 
 out, wrapped in rubber blankets, behind our heavily laden 
 wagon, as it jogged along the cart path toward the place of 
 ascent. It was near a small farm, whose house was on one side 
 of the road and barn on the other. But all thoughts of ascent 
 during that day, were driven out of our minds by the threaten- 
 ing darkness and the mists upon the mountain side. To camp 
 on the ground, wet by the afternoon's rain, as well as by that 
 of the preceding night, would not have beeen pleasant, and it 
 was with joy that we obtained permission of the farmer to sleep 
 in his barn. To the hungry man, all food is a feast, and to the 
 weary, any couch gives easy slumber, even though it be the 
 ground, which is not always especially arranged with reference 
 to anatomy. But a bed of fresh, sweet-smelling hay, remind- 
 ing one of the lavender-scented sheets of Walton's Inn, after a 
 long day's walk, is luxury without luxury's enervation. As it 
 were in payment for this, the farmer begged we would come 
 into the house in the evening to sing, and none of us can ever 
 forget that rude room only lighted by a stick of wood or two 
 upon the hearth, around which we sat and lustily sang many a 
 lively ballad or jolly college chorus, not forgetting that stirring 
 song, now known in every house throughout the north, the old 
 "John Brown." 
 
 Brightly, the next morning, the sun shone as we trod down 
 
EEMmiSCENCES OF MT. MOOSEILAUKE. 107 
 
 the tall wet grass, between the road and the brook, that skirted 
 the mountam^s side and entered the old green forests. Keats, 
 in his Endymion, by imagination's aid, has sung of the sides of 
 Latmos ; but here was a reality, here the rich and wild luxuri- 
 ance of vegetation, the solitude of the rarely trodden forest. 
 Only a slight foot-path, here and there almost imperceptible, 
 crept up the side of the mountain. Indeed, in the intoxication 
 of the early morning air, the scene was almost fairy-like, and 
 especially so through the abundance of bright green moss which 
 covered everj^hing ; moss, which grew in feathery branches, 
 not unlike ferns in shape, but more softly and beautifully shaded, 
 and which, in its luxuriance and size seemed almost tropical. 
 Here it spread over the stones, there covered the decaying fibres 
 of some old tree, like children hiding the imperfections of an 
 aged man. 
 
 About half of the way up, the path wound along the 
 steep bank of a ravine, at whose foot a mountain stream, though 
 not seen, was heard dashing madly along. The opposite side 
 covered with pines rose from below, high and steep above us, 
 and as the breeze rustled through the branches, the place seemed 
 hardly less grand in its monotony, than the ocean, with its 
 unceasing roar. 
 
 As we approached the top the trees began to disappear, until 
 upon the very summit, all vegetation was absent, save the 
 bunches of white flowers that grew among the rocks. Here a 
 clear view in all directions, was spread before us, except where 
 a few clouds lay in the mountain horizon. All the lately visited 
 spots again appeared. In the southeast was Winnipiseogee, a 
 little dot of blue, whose waters, set with many a green island, 
 we had looked upon, in the dreamy summer afternoon, from the 
 summit of Red Hill. Farther toward the north was Mt. Kiar- 
 sarge, with its house-crowned top, where the sun had risen and 
 set before our eyes, with beauty only to be seen in such a spot ; 
 from the windows of whose dilapidated hotel, we had viewed the 
 moon rise, lighting up, as it ascended, many a lake and pond, 
 and showing in the distance the ocean, a silver line upon the 
 horizon. Washington was partially covered with clouds, but 
 nearer Lafayette was plainly visible. While between the more 
 
108 ON RECEIVING A TYPOLITE LIKENESS OF A LADY. 
 
 prominent were many hills and mountains, which could not be 
 so easily recognized. West of the White Hills, toward the 
 north was Canada and some of its mountains. Not only did the 
 view give us a chance to bid farewell to all we had seen, but 
 showed us our way, whither we were to go. Along the west 
 lay the Green Mountain range, and between us and it, the 
 Connecticut valley. Seen here and there the river itself appear- 
 ed, flowing downward to the plain of the south, from which 
 isolated Monadnock rose ; while on its banks villages were 
 thickly scattered, whose white church spires arose here and there 
 among the old elm trees. As the sun was already some dis- 
 tance in his course, and the Connecticut must be reached before 
 he sank in the west, our eyes again bade farewell to the forms 
 of mountains, among which we had been so long, and our foot- 
 steps were turned toward the placid waters of Champlain and 
 picturesque Lake George. 
 
 ON RECEIVING A TYPOLITE LIKENESS OF A LADY. 
 
 Had Raphael limned that typolite 
 
 'Twould not compare with thee ! 
 Though wavy hair in tresses light 
 Caressed a brow of spotless white, ' 
 
 And in a lovely face I might 
 
 Resemblance see. 
 
 Did Psyche's form and Venus' face 
 
 Assert the painter's skill, 
 With every part so deftly traced 
 By airy soft apparel graced ; 
 Though art should all her powers waste 
 
 'Twere useless still. 
 
 For should she paint a perfect whole, 
 
 'Twould want what most I prize, 
 That timid glance 'neath eyelash stole 
 Which draws all hearts to its control, 
 The charming effluence of the soul 
 Which lights thine eyes. 
 
A TKADITION OF THE SEEKONK. 109 
 
 A TEADITION OF THE SEEKONK. 
 
 Traditions are the master-keys which unlock the chambers of 
 the imagination. They open and display to us the pleasant 
 scenes of by-gone times, and they invest the familiar objects 
 which surround us with a hallowed charm, peopling every-day 
 scenes with the forms which legends tell us once delighted there 
 to dwell. Half-way up the Catskill mountains, a large picture 
 on the side of a house, representing Rip Van Winkle just 
 awaking from his sleep, and exclaiming, "Oh! that flagon — 
 that wicked flagon ! " attracts the attention of the traveller, and 
 immediately his imagination, as it were, looks through the. 
 neighboring grove, and spreads out before him an open glade, 
 A^ere the little crew of Hendrick Hudson are playing silently 
 their game of ten-pins. 
 
 It is this imaginative pleasure which so fascinates the Euro- 
 pean tourist, travelling through countries rich in lore ; and 
 pitiable indeed is the man who could wish that 
 
 " Our rivers overhung 
 By forests which have known no other change 
 For ages, than the budding and the fall 
 Of leaves — our valleys lovelier than those 
 Which the old poets sang of — should but figure 
 On the apocryphal chart of speculation 
 As pastures, wood-lots, mill-sites, with the privileges, 
 Rights and appurtenances, which make up 
 A Yankee Paradise — unsung, unknown, 
 To beautiful tradition." 
 
 With the thought that perhaps but few may have heard it, and 
 with the hope that some who wander along the banks of our 
 pleasant river, may enjoy the prospect more, this short and sim- 
 ple story of the Seekonk is related. 
 
 Back in the primitive times of this country, before the white 
 man's axe was heard in the forest, and when the wild goose was 
 undisturbed on his favorite river,* by the report of the white 
 man's rifle, a young Indian chief, of brave and manly bearing, 
 plants his wigwam in a secluded valley on the western shore of 
 
 * The word Seekonk comes from the Indian seaki, black, and honk, a 
 goose, so called from the great number of these birds found on its waters. 
 
A TRADITION OF THE SEEKONK. 
 
 the Seekonk. What attracts him thus away from the remainder 
 of his tribe ? Does he come to shoot the wild-fowl sporting on 
 the river, or to catch the many sea-fish which swarm within its 
 depths ? No, far different is his purpose. As he looks across 
 the water he can see a thin white smoke cm'ling above the pine 
 trees which crown the opposite bank. He knows it rises from 
 the camp fires of a Massachusetts tribe, among which is a black- 
 haired maiden, the daughter of the Sachem. She, the dark- 
 skinned beauty of her people, is the prize that lures him hither. 
 He has said that he will meet her in the woods close by the 
 river, and now he comes to fulfil his promise, braving the anger 
 of her father, who hates the proud young cliieftain on whom his 
 daughter looks with favor. He comes to take her to his wig- 
 wam, that it may not be so lonely — ^that some one may be 
 there to greet him when he comes back 'from his hunting, or 
 from following on the war-trail. 
 
 Just as the sun is kissing the western clouds good night, 
 making them redden with their blushes, the Indian lover 
 launches his little birch canoe upon the smooth-flowing Seekonk. 
 With a quickly beating heart, not betrayed by his impassive 
 face, he noiselessly glides across the river, heeding not the 
 billowy storm-cloud which gathers darkly in the north, nor the 
 warning note of the tree-toad plaintively sounding in the air. 
 In a sheltered curving of the shore his nimble boat is fastened, 
 and proud and joyous he hastens to the appointed place of 
 meeting. There he finds the Indian maiden prompt and faith- 
 ful to her promise. What they said upon the meeting was not 
 heard, save by the pine trees or the little birds that twittered in 
 the branches overhead ; but suddenly a footstep, soft and glid- 
 ing, is distinguished by the sharp ear of the Indian, and his 
 quick eye catches a gleam of light from the tomahawk of the 
 angry Sachem, who, like a wary panther, steals towards his 
 intended prey. Snatching the maiden by the waist, the fleet- 
 footed Indian has reached the shore, ere the old chief can over- 
 take them ; and as they shoot out from the bank, they see a 
 scowling face turn back with sullen disappointment. 
 
 But what a change is on the river ! The small black cloud 
 which gathered in the north, has now darkened the whole sky, 
 
A TRADITION OF THE SEEKONK. Ill 
 
 and that little "harbinger of storms" has ceased his boding cry 
 from his station in a neighboring tree ; for the wind has already 
 broken the smooth surface of the water into short and angry 
 waves, and the big rain drops descending are driven with fury 
 to the earth. . Bravely the anxious lover battles with the 
 elements, as his little bark is tossed from wave to wave ; and 
 with tender words of hope, the maiden urges him to strive his 
 utmost to reach the shore, where they see his lonely wigwam 
 standing ready to receive them. But all in vain are his strong- 
 est efforts. When scarcely half-way over, a mighty blast of the 
 tempest lifts the frail canoe, as if a feather, and casts the fated 
 lovers into the wild and maddened river. No helping hand is 
 there to aid them ; the darkened sky is frowning ominously ; 
 and the furious storm, baffling all their endeavors, overwhelms 
 them. In a last embrace of affection they sink, and are seen no 
 more on earth ; for they have departed 
 
 " To the islands of the blessed 
 To the kingdom of Ponemah 
 To the land of the hereafter." 
 
 Then the fierce north wind, as if repenting of his cruel deed, 
 sweeps over the rising crests of the waves, spinning them into 
 threads, and weaving them into a winding sheet of foam ; and 
 he sweeps over the pine trees on the banks, making them bow 
 their heads and wail the death song over the " grave of the faith- 
 ful lovers." 
 3 
 
112 THE poet's TEACHEE. 
 
 THE POET'S TEACHER. 
 
 One night we went to hear Parepa. She sang and was 
 encored. She gave us selections from the German and from the 
 Italian Masters. She led us through dizzy mazes of half-notes 
 and quavres. We got our "money's worth" and came away. 
 The next morning at day-break, long before we had read the 
 musical critiques on the evening's performance, a stream of joy 
 poured through our window. It was the matin of a wild bird. 
 This songster was not hired to sing. He waited for no audience, 
 he courted no applause. His very life was a song — and he 
 poured forth that life freely in a glad burst of melody. In the 
 evening we had listened to Art, now we were listening to 
 Nature ; and we thought of another singer, the poet, the ten- 
 der undertone of whose song breathes upon the finer senses like 
 incense, or sobs forth sorrows which press a cry from the heart, 
 and we asked ourselves, "Is the poet a creature of Art like 
 Parepa, or of Nature like the wild bird ?" 
 
 Man lives in two worlds — the world of Nature and the world 
 of Art . The former includes those objects and phenomena in the 
 ■ world of sense without him, which, while they minister to the 
 high ends of his spiritual being, do not depend for their subsis- 
 tence upon the human will. The latter includes those objects 
 which have been contrived by the hand of man to supply his 
 wants, and which are regulated by fashion or caprice. Art is 
 the passive instrument of man. Nature is the grand overmas- 
 tering power whose influences are seen within us and on every 
 side of us. 
 
 Now if poetry were founded on Art, we would naturally 
 expect its perfection in that period in the history of a nation, in 
 which society evinced the highest degree of refinement, and in 
 which the arts were most assiduously cultivated ; as knowledge 
 increased, poetry would exhibit a corresponding progressive im- 
 provement, attaining relative perfection only in successive ages 
 by dint of constant repetition. The whole history of poetry 
 fails to sustain the premises. It is in the earlier stages of the 
 national literature that poetry attains its highest perfection. 
 
THE poet's teacher. 113 
 
 Homer, Dante, Ariosto, Shakspeare, Milton, these masters of 
 song lived near the beginning of the literatures wliich they 
 developed, and were followed by inferior artists who merely 
 fumbled on the chords which once thrilled under the master's 
 touch. Poetry exhibits no progressive movement. Its absolute 
 perfection was attained three thousand years ago. In compari- 
 son with the present systems, the Homeric theology, arts and 
 society appear crude and imperfect ; but we can boast of no- bet- 
 ter poetry than the Iliad. Tliis reflection is an extremely morti- 
 fying one, but it enables us to form a more exalted conception 
 of the dignity and universality of poetry, as founded upon what 
 is beyond the influence of fashion and caprice, upon Nature 
 rather than upon Art. 
 
 The beauties and harmonies of Nature are not locked up in 
 the cabinets of science, but are spread out on the green lap of 
 the earth. Homer had eyes to see, ears to hear, a heart to feel. 
 He was as able to catch all the sentiments in the world of sense 
 without him as men are to-day. The stars looked down upon 
 him from the sky, and he felt a solemn calm beneath their earn- 
 est gaze, for the stars to him were the eyes of heroes and 
 demi-gods. We have to-day more elaborate systems, more 
 subtle astronomical theories, but our science has added notliing 
 to the poetry of the heavens ; because poetry is not at all inter- 
 ested in the matter of relative distances or in celestial mechanics. 
 We may understand all the cunning adaptation, all the wonder- 
 ment of craft displayed in Nature, but poetry gains nothing 
 from this anatomical knowledo-e, for thoug-h our understandino; is 
 enlarged, the delicacy of our sensibilities is not heightened. 
 What need then had Homer of telescope or dissecting-knife ? 
 To him Nature was a living presence. He looked upon the 
 natural world, and he saw it in its eternal beauty — he felt its 
 truths in their universal interest as they affected the primary 
 principles of human nature. 
 
 But Natm'e, being susceptible of an infinite variety of combi- 
 nations, is well nigh exhaustless. Why then, if poetry is 
 founded on Nature, should its highest perfection in the early 
 periods of literature be followed by mediocrity in succeeding 
 ages ? The reason is obvious . The masters of song who live 
 
114 THE poet's TEACHEE. 
 
 in the first epochs of the national literature are of necessity the 
 first reapers in the field, and hence catch the more obvious fea- 
 tures of Nature with a liveliness and truth which no subsequent 
 eiforts can surpass. Posterity can send only gleaners into the 
 field to catch here and there what has escaped the vigilance of 
 the master-workmen. Then, too, the early poet lives at a 
 time when the restraints of society have not chilled man's sensi- 
 bilities. He communes more directly with Nature. His life is 
 more adventurous and romantic, his nature more impulsive and 
 child-like, his language more picturesque, his imagination more 
 vivid. It is then that the poet penetrating the world of man's 
 thoughts, affections and faith, identifies himself with the feelings 
 of his race. But in after days, when the hand of Art supplies 
 the heart's desire, when society withdraws man from Nature, and 
 fashion and custom crowd back the involuntary emotions of the 
 heart, life become more practical and prosaic, imagination 
 becomes more tame, and hence poetry droops. In later days 
 the poet is obliged to affect what he does not feel, and his poetry 
 is more artificial, less natural. 
 
 The history of poetry, then, leads us to the conclusion that it 
 is founded on Nature rather than Art. This conclusion is cor- 
 roborated by the whole theory of poetry. 
 
 What is Poetry ? It is a word which we use every day, and 
 yet one not easily defined. Aristotle thought that the essence 
 of poetry was fiction ; but the poet gives musical form to pic- 
 tures which are true. Again, imitation has been regarded as 
 the characteristic feature of poetry ; but music, sculpture and all 
 the mechanical arts are also imitative. The Maitre de Philoso- 
 phie in Moliere's " Bourgeois Gentilhomme " makes the amusing 
 generalization, "all that is not prose is verse." Rhyme and 
 metrical form are mere externals of poetry. Does a prose 
 translation rob the Iliad of its poetry? Versification forms a 
 technical but not an essential part of poetry. Ruskin, in defining 
 poetry, takes pains to compare the historical or prose statement 
 with the poetical ; but Coleridge has shown much more to our 
 satisfaction, that the true antithesis of prose is not poetry but 
 verse, while the true antithesis of poetry is science. How then 
 do science and poetry differ in their functions? Science 
 
THE poet's TEACHEE. 115 
 
 instructs, poetry pleases ; science addresses the understanding, 
 poetry the imagination and feelings. The poet may instruct, 
 but he does this only by producing intellectual pleasure. If his 
 thought is a familiar one, he invests it with a new charm by 
 presenting it in a form which appeals to our feelings with pecu- 
 liar force. If it is an elevated conception he clothes it in meta- 
 phors, and thus communicates the fire of his own imagination, 
 causing our pulses to throb with the same passion that electrifies 
 his own. Poetry is the language of passion and is interwoven 
 with all the activities of the human soul. " The word embraces 
 us while the thought imprints a kiss." The poet is the heart of 
 his age. His verse is the calendar of the hopes and fears of the 
 race — a leaf from the daily experience of humanity. 
 
 We can now understand why poetry has no sympathy with 
 the advance of civilization and refinement. Art as embodying 
 the principles of science, is the antithesis of poetry. "Nature 
 rushes through the soul like a stream with a murmuring sound 
 the echo of which is poetry." Milton recognizes th^ee qualities 
 as common to all poetry — simplicity, sensuousness and passion. 
 But these are the very qualities of Natm^e. As Homer and 
 Shakspeare can be read alike by the young and the old, by the 
 rude and the cultivated, so Nature in her simplicity is under- 
 stood by all men at all times. As Homer and Shakspeare 
 always present tangible realities, never losing themselves in the 
 abstract or the ideal, so Nature is always definite and practical. 
 As Homer and Shakspeare portray not galleries of portraits — 
 not personified qualities, but men, so Nature exhibits beneath 
 the cold features of the landscape, the fire and animation of a 
 sympathetic soul. Nature is not merely a combination of colors, 
 surfaces and sounds, differing in shade, size and intensity. 
 Behind Nature there is a soul looking out from all her features, 
 and expressing her deepest emotion^ ; and not only can we 
 understand the eloquence of her mute appeal when she looks 
 upon us smilingly or sternly, but at times, with inspired imagi- 
 nation, we can trace the outlines of something supernatural, the 
 God of Nature. 
 
 But the question arises — ^though the spirit of Art is not the 
 spirit of poetry, are not objects of Art sometimes poetical? 
 
116 THE poet's teacher. 
 
 The Coliseum seems to corroborate this view ; but the Coliseum 
 is only Art in its fallen state — Art that has been crumbling to 
 dust over fifteen hundred years. It is poetical — any ruin is 
 poetical — not because it is Art, but because it betrays the tri- 
 umph of fate and time over the works of man's hands. Let us 
 take some complete work of Art — the Thayer Street School 
 House, for instance, or the Butler Hospital, newly painted and 
 plastered, and can we find any poetry associated Mith either? 
 There is no poetry in the firing of a fire-cracker, but there is 
 poetry in the sad moaning of a gun at sea. There is no poetry 
 in the sound of a dinner bell, but there is poetry in the meas- 
 ured sighs of the curfew. A lamp attached to a locomotive 
 carries with it no poetry, but when hung in a tower by the sea, 
 it becomes a centre of poetic feeling. Not to multiply illustra- 
 tions, we cannot fail to remark that Art is not poetical simply 
 as Art, but only has its hard features are softened by the hand 
 of natural association. Hence the modest village church 
 wherein we were baptized, and wherein were breathed our 
 childish prayers for clearer light and braver hope, is more poet- 
 ical than the massive architecture of the Cologne Cathedral. 
 Hence the old red school-house where we first scanned Virgil is 
 more poetical than the classic quadrangles of Oxford. Hence 
 the tarnished ambrotype of the gentle mother, who used to lis- 
 ten for the patter of our childish steps, and who one day fell 
 asleep like a tired child, trusting in the morrow's sunshine 
 because to-day is bright, is more poetical than the Madonna di 
 San Sisto — "the abstraction of power, purity and love poised on 
 the empurpled air." 
 
 There is the same ground for our attachment to Nature as for 
 any of our habitual attachments, — namely association of ideas. 
 We love natural objects because they are the first pictures which 
 are stamped upon the mind, because they have been associated 
 with the hopes and pleasures of childhood, because they are the 
 last to fade away from the memory. Nature always speaks in 
 the same well-known tongue. It is now the season of Spring. 
 A life-giving spirit has breathed upon the icy cerements of the 
 earth, and now death is lost in life- — the fair earth blooms ! And 
 when Summer with imperial tread shall take its way along the 
 
THE poet's teacher. 117 
 
 crests of the shining hills, this perfect world will be reproduced 
 in all its pristine loveliness — every tone, every color, of the 
 summers that are gone gladdening our souls again. Nature is 
 constant, familiar — yet never hackneyed. The same sun year 
 after year lights up the majestic meadows ; the same moon shines 
 through the clouds ; the summer showers, the tints of Autumn, 
 the naked trees are ever the same ; yet they are never common- 
 place. Nature is homelike and her works are links of our being ; 
 while Art is never personal, but always slow to excite sympathy. 
 Art has a strong individualism, for we always think of works 
 of Art as made or owned by some one. We can have no sym- 
 pathy vdth a Greek statue, for it seems in its faultless symmetry 
 not to need our admiration, and to be raised above the level of 
 our deformed and awkward humanity. But our intercourse 
 with Nature is liable neither to disappointment or to ennui. 
 We feel that she is all sufficient, and yet all friendly ; and so we 
 are soothed by her gentle sympathy, and rejoice in the fellow- 
 ship of her near divineness. 
 
 We have thus considered the history, theory and a few of the 
 applications of poetry, and the supposition that poetry is founded 
 on Nature rather than Art has proved in every case tenable. 
 Nature is the poet's teacher. Poeta nascitur! No amount of 
 study, no system of education can compensate for the absence of 
 the poetic organization, natural sensibilities to feel, and judg- 
 ment to blend in harmony the materials of poetry. Yes, the 
 poet is born, but he does not lisp rhymes in the cradle. Like 
 the painter, like the musician, he serves an apprenticeship, and 
 that apprenticeship is to Nature. The painter is born, and his 
 young eyes see visions on every side — the sunset, the starlit 
 skies, the field, the forest, the quiet valley ; and these visions are 
 reproduced upon the glowing canvas. The musician is born, 
 and he hears the voice of the ocean wave lashing the shore, the 
 voice of the breeze, the voice of the forest, the voice of the 
 birds, and the weird sounds are blended into tones large, swel- 
 ling, subduing, which make our being thrill, as if music were 
 the breath of a larger and more exalted life. The poet is born, 
 and visions and voices are on every side ; the flowers and trees 
 are made to have a meaning ; the beasts and the birds to speak ; 
 
118 THE poet's teacher. 
 
 and with piercing insight he Catches the Hving sentiment of 
 Nature, and feels that the spirit within him is kindred to that 
 which is glowing without him; and all Nature is filled with 
 beauty and rises to grandeur and sublimity when he reads the 
 uttered feelings of the approving or offended God. 
 
 Some people think that poetry is found only in books ; but 
 all the poetry in the world never has been, never can be writ- 
 ten. " Poetry is the universal language which the heart holds 
 with Nature and itself." In one of the pauses in the siege of 
 Sevastopol, 
 
 " When the heated guns of the camps allied 
 Grew weary of bombarding," 
 
 a song was echoed from line to line of the British army. 
 
 " They sang of love and not of fame, 
 
 Forgot was England's glory, ' 
 
 Each heart recalled a different name 
 
 But all sang Annie Laurie." 
 
 Now had the General-in-chief given the order, " Poets to the 
 front," there would probably have been few volunteers for so 
 novel a service ; and yet these soldiers composed in effect as fine 
 an Ihad as that which embalms the valor of Achilles. So 
 those of us who despise the poets occupation, and feel no awe 
 when we stand in the Poet's Corner, act upon the principles of 
 poetry every day of our lives. " For all that is worth living in 
 life is the poetry of it." 
 
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 119 
 
 THE OTHER SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 
 
 Messrs. Editors : — That you should publish, and your fel- 
 low students should read, a magazine is eminently proper. 
 That you should discuss therein questions of general and local 
 interest is also your own affair. But when your articles are 
 indorsed by the public press, they are carried beyond the realm 
 of college affairs and become public property, subject to the 
 same laws of criticism as all other publications. It is under 
 this privilege that I address you the following letter, suggested 
 by an article contained in your last issue, entitled the "Mar- 
 riage Question." 
 
 The writer, after laboring through a ponderous introduction, 
 begins with a brief statement of the marriage institution ; and 
 then hurries on to the various causes which lead to marriage. 
 The latter he arranges under three heads. The first one dis- 
 cussed is the marriage for love. We do not wish to insinuate 
 that the writer has ever been "jilted," but he comes to the con- 
 clusion , which is generally reached by those who have met with 
 a similar misfortune, namely, that love is all a delusion. He 
 then passes on to the marriage for convenience, wliich appears 
 to be his favorite theory. He seems to be especially fond of 
 the practical. We suppose he would have the old-fashioned 
 mode of " popping the question " changed to something like the 
 following form, " Miss Jerusha, will you darn my stockings and 
 sew on my shirt buttons for Kfe ? " He claims for his practical 
 method "the merit of not being founded upon expectations 
 which cannot be realized." His last point under this head is 
 the marriage for money. Upon this he has little to say, except 
 to make it evident, in rather a muddled way, that he would 
 not object to marrying for a pecuniary consideration. 
 
 Satisfying ourselves with this brief review of his inducements 
 to marriage, we will next notice what the writer chooses to 
 assume to be the growing disinclination to marriage among 
 young men, and the causes for it. Of course, in his opinion, 
 the unwillingness is wholly on the side of the males. The first 
 reason assigned is extravagence on the part of the women. 
 This charge is too old a one to carry much weight. It long 
 4 
 
120 THE OTHER SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 
 
 since became fashionable with the sterner sex to ascribe all the 
 follies of the age to the women, and between the fragrant puffs 
 of their Havanas to descant upon the sums wasted in female 
 dress. We shall not attempt to deny that there are many ridiculous 
 fashions indulged in by women. But are they alone in this re- 
 spect ? How many years since is it that every young man could 
 be seen on the street wearing a coat, the waist of which was 
 hitched up under his armpits and the tail flapping around his 
 — his ankles? (We must beg you pardon, gentlemen, but 
 we can recall no other word.) But, to come down to more 
 modern days, what elegant cravats we see now, and those 
 jaunty blue hats, with the rims turned down, making one think 
 that the owners thereof had been caught in an April shower. 
 Does all the vanity of the human family belong to the female 
 portion ? Witness ye society pins and class canes ! Witness ye 
 promenades on Westminster Street of a Saturday afternoon ! 
 
 The false system of education at female seminaries is next 
 touched upon. The writer styles these finishing institutions, 
 conducted for the purpose of preparing young ladies to secure 
 husbands. Now we never went "through" college; but we 
 have the fortune to live in a college town. And we have some- 
 times wondered whether certain performances which have come 
 under our observation were a part of the " finish " acquired at 
 these renowned institutions of learning. For instance, our 
 slumbers have been disturbed on numerous occasions by 
 unearthly noises, which made us believe that we had been trans- 
 ported back to the time when the war-like Narragansetts inhab- 
 ited these regions. But, on seeking for the cause, we found it 
 was only a "little Sophomoric exuberance." Which is the 
 better, to learn how to sing, dance and dress, or to smash win- 
 dows, burn well-curbs and steal water-buckets, and then go on a 
 tramp through the streets, headed by fife and drum, to the 
 unbounded delight of the ignorant multitude ? We have yet to 
 learn of the female institution which allows its students' to 
 indulge in squabbles over a cane or an old hat ; for which bril- 
 liant exploits Class Day seems to have been specially devised. 
 If one mode of training gives us flaunting girls, the other as 
 certainly gives us any number of fops. 
 
THE OTHEE SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 121 
 
 And now we come to the weakest part of the whole argument, 
 the repugnance of young women to all useful employments. 
 Those who live in glass houses ought not to throw stones. We 
 wonder why there is at this moment such an army of office 
 seekers at the national capital ; why all the professions and 
 lighter employments are full to repletion. Idleness can no 
 more be charged upon the women than upon the men. Is it 
 any worse to sit at a window and gaze than it is to stand on the 
 street corner and stare? And who are prouder and more 
 desirous of exhibiting their white hands than our male acquaint- 
 ances, especially if there is a seal ring to display? Useful em- 
 ployments ! Why our commercial colleges are crowded with 
 young men all desirous of becoming clerks and book-keepers. 
 And besides, how many briefless lawyers and physicians guilt- 
 less of their brothers' blood have we, who enter upon their pro- 
 fessions with no intentions of prosecuting the real duties belong- 
 ing thereto, so long as generous parents supply the means to live. 
 There, gentlemen, answer us plainly, are women the only ones 
 who have a distaste for useful employments. 
 
 In the opinion of the writer of the " Marriage Question," the 
 remedy for all this is very simple. Young women are to get rid 
 of frivolity in word and act. Just here let us ask, what conver- 
 sation can be more frivolous than that of paying compliments so 
 much indulged in by young men during their first courting days ? 
 They deal out their flattery until it is thick enough to be cut 
 with a knife ; unconscious the while that the objects of their 
 devotion are inwardly making sport of them. Young women 
 are next advised " to turn their thoughts out of the petty chan- 
 nels through which they have so long consented that they should 
 flow." A few years since every young man was battering up 
 his shins (we are compelled again to beg your pardon, gentle- 
 men) in our "national game." Then came Weston, careering 
 through the land ; and immediately there sprang up thousands 
 of lesser lights, anxious to exhibit their locomotive powers. 
 And now any number of mothers' sons are trying to break 
 their necks in navigating two-wheeled gigs called velocipedes. 
 If such examples are to be set before us by those who claim to 
 
122 THE OTHER SIDE OE THE QUESTION. 
 
 be our superiors, we have but little hope of any speedy progress 
 towards perfection on the part of the female sex. 
 
 And here the writer appears to have exhausted himself; for 
 he exclaims, "we entered upon no tirade against woman' in 
 general, and have had no intention to disparage the sex." 
 What sublime complacency. In other words, "we have said all 
 the hard things we could, but after all they don't amount to 
 anything." He tries hard to make some amends for previous 
 unreasonableness. And, on the whole, we would scarce believe 
 that the same person had penned this paragraph, if it were not 
 for one sentence in which a concluding epithet is applied to 
 young ladies by calling them " sickish, silly, sentimental crea- 
 tures. And finally he winds up with a grand display of liber- 
 ality and sentiment. 
 
 But is there any possibility of arriving at a reasonable stand- 
 point in this woman question, about which so many just now 
 are busying themselves in rather a noisy manner. Setting 
 aside our right to take an equal share in politics and the pro- 
 fessions, we claim the right to prepare ourselves for the sphere 
 of duty we at present occupy. Upon woman depends mainly 
 the prosperity and existence of society, and her good sense and 
 judgment shapes, in a great degree, the happiness of the family. 
 But instead of being educated to this end, custom prescribes and 
 men sanction a mode of training which fits them more to be 
 play actors and dancing girls than true wives. If we are 
 allowed no better advantages than these, who is to blame if we 
 are not the equals of men ; or if we seek in the excitements of 
 fashionable life some relief from the dull routine of household 
 duties ? If I make an attempt at literature I am called a blue- 
 stocking. By this tyranny of custom you shut out all hope of 
 intellectual improvement. A youth is sent to college to be 
 manufactured into a parson, lawyer or doctor ; but his sister 
 with equal, or perhaps, superior abilities, is kept at home en- 
 gaged in household drudgery or in the set circle of fashion. Would 
 any of you, gentlemen, be willing to marry a woman who knew 
 more, or even as much, as you do yourselves? You know you 
 would not. But you will allow your brains to become bewild- 
 
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 123 
 
 ered by a pretty face, and tliink you are displaying your supe- 
 rior discernment at the same time. 
 
 But we must bring this letter to a close, which has already 
 been extended far beyond the limits originally prescribed. 
 Logical arguments, drawn out to a gossamer fineness, have not 
 been attempted. For what need has a woman of logic, when 
 her unerring instinct guides her to the same conclusion which 
 it takes a man hours of dull, plodding study to reach. CHmb up 
 the tedious steps of your sylogisms, gentlemen, and when you 
 get to the top you will find a woman there before you. She 
 sees right through all your arguments. Circumvent her wit, 
 will you? She is perfectly willing that you should make all 
 the noise outside, while she holds the reins at home. Opin- 
 ions of your own, I say. it boldly, you have none. Make 
 the most of yom' freedom ; for, unless you have determined 
 upon bachelorhood, the matrimonial noose will soon encircle 
 your necks. In conclusion, gentlemen, we will only remind 
 you, that for every female fool we can find you a male mate. 
 
 Amazon. 
 
124 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 pj0Wi pUttir^ 
 
 " Fiet Aristarclius ; noii clicet : ' Cur ego amicum 
 Offendam in nugis.' Heb nugffi seria duceiit." 
 
 " Becomes an Aristarclius, nor will say, 
 
 ' For ti-ifles, why should I disijlease my friend ? ' 
 
 Tiifles like these to serious mischief lead." 
 
 Horace^ Ars Poetica, — 450. 
 
 Bkown is in many respects a most admirable institution. In strengtliening 
 and developing the moral powers it might be with some reason doubted if she 
 has any superior. The thoroughness and completeness of her course, and the 
 immediate personal influence of such truly Christian scholars and gentlemen 
 as her faculty, tend powerfully to make every student an honest and broad- 
 spirited thinker. But while we have the high education of mental and moral 
 powers which comes from the study of good books, and contact with good teach- 
 ers, it must be acknowledged that we lack here that incomprehensible 
 widening of thoughts and tastes and sympathies, which goes by the name of 
 culture. That supreme excellence which Guizot probably had in mind when 
 he spoke of the civilization of the individual ; that really unselflish progressive 
 spirit which leads one tcf forsake his cherished egoisms, and throw himself 
 into any general movement which will produce most good to the community. 
 It is this hearty sympathy with others which ennobles men, making them look 
 for ends beyond their own little individual existences. 
 
 We lack this at .Brown, and though it may seem like a vague and unpracti- 
 cal thing in itself, the results of its absence are sadly practical. Without it 
 dies that public spirit which built up Greece and Home, the true atmosphere 
 of growth, developing itself by what it feeds upon. And this public spirit is 
 dying here. We are dismal for want of sympathies. Bond after bond, snaps which 
 has held us together. Large societies are dead. Music is not cultivated at 
 all. Boat crew has fizzled after boat crew and many ball nines have failed 
 from sheer want of practice. The common phrase is " there is no spirit in the 
 college." Students show the effects of this stagnation. They don't boil over 
 with music and wit and activity, like the average American student, but exhi- 
 bit on the contrary, rather a book-worm tendency. 
 
 Opinions differ about the reasons for this want. One ascribes it to the 
 secret societies.* A second to the partial course, a third to the fact that the 
 college is absorbed by the city. But the fact that other colleges which labor 
 under these same disadvantages, if such they are, are not wanting in social 
 culture, has led us to ascribe the evil, in a great measure, to a matter in 
 which Brown stands alone among the first-class colleges of the land. And the 
 exposition of this far working evil is the object of the present article. Before 
 we risk the liitherto spotless reputation of the " Brunonian" by mentioning 
 this cause, we wish to say that no animadversions upon any individual or 
 committee is intended, but only a fair presentation, from the students' point 
 of view, of a system which is a direct injury to them. 
 
 * See Providence Journal, Feb, 1st., 1869. 
 
HOME MATTEKS. 125 
 
 We refer to the slipshod and inefficient management of the dormitories and 
 out-buildings of the college. 
 
 Plato thought that no man could learn anything whatever except, from 
 actual contact with his equals, and Dr. Peabody, now the acting president of 
 Harvard, conveyed the same idea when he said, " Young men do not come to 
 college for the learning they carry away, but for the benefit they receive from 
 rubbing against each other while here." The American College is not a Uni- 
 versity in its true sense, nor is it by any means a school, but it has its own 
 proper virtues, and this is the chief of them, namely, that fellows are brought 
 together under healthy influences, so that they may be inspired by emulation 
 and example, to struggle mightily to excel, not only in the limited round of 
 lessons, but in honor and gentle courtesy, in artistic tastes and muscular 
 strength, in all those manly qualities which go to make one of us better than 
 another, when judged by the world's standard. In a college aiming at such 
 culture, it is evident that the first thing after securing teachers, is to bring the 
 students together. This can be done only by making the college building 
 attractive, and at Cornell and all the new colleges, the very first thing has 
 been to provide comfortable and even elegant accommo'dations for the students. 
 The same principle is followed at all the old colleges of emmence except 
 Brown. Harvard, Yale, Amherst and Williams, have been and are adding 
 elegant dormitories, gymnasiums, art galleries, and every thing that can ren- 
 der them attractive. Besides this the dormitories are set apart for students 
 and professors only, and are kept in excellent order. In these colleges it is 
 naturally considered a great deprivation to be obliged to room outside, and a 
 pride is felt in the college and its institutions which is in itself an esprit de 
 corps. 
 
 Brown, as we have said, is an exception to this rule. Here it seems to be 
 no object, either to bring men into the buildings or to make them comfortable 
 when there. In the first place the rooms are by no means all used by stu- 
 dents. Of the sixty-two rooms in University Hall, for instance, thirty-two 
 only are occupied by students. Deducting besides six recitation rooms, the 
 President's office, Eegister's office and Sears' Reading Room, we have a result 
 of twenty-one rooms used for miscellaneous purposes — some for a private 
 tenement, some for book stores, some for receptacles for tables, some for 
 general lumber rooms, while others, horribile dictu! are let to servants. 
 Meantime there are many students who would like to have rooms and cannot 
 get them. It is true that we only pay nine dollars per term for these rooms ; 
 but it is a sad confusion of price and value to consider that they are only 
 worth that to the University, and on that ground to use them for all sorts of 
 purposes, while many poor students, whom the low prices were intended to 
 benefit, are obliged to pay the high city rents for rooms outside. Besides the 
 very respectable number who are crowded out, there is another class of out- 
 siders composed of those who are in eagy circumstances, and prefer paying 
 higher prices to undergoing the discomforts of college life. Among these are 
 many of the men who would exert the most refining influence and do most for 
 the support of college institutions, if they once became interested in them : 
 but when living in the busy town they naturally turn from the quiet college 
 to the more brilliant, but less healthy pleasures of city society, and thus lose 
 the benefit they would derive from college life, while the college loses the 
 
126 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 beneficial influence which they would exercise. What life there is in college 
 is dependent upon men who room in the dormitories. Now if the unused 
 rooms were made available and attractive so as to bring both of these classes 
 of aliens into college, there is little doubt that they would both assist to raise 
 the general tone of our society, and tend to give a more corporate tendency to 
 the students. It may not be so, but the experiment does seem worth trying. 
 But even if this were done to promote social intercourse, there would still be 
 a big stone left unturned. The rooms ought to be assigned according to some 
 principle, which should associate class-mates and give a preference to length 
 of residence in college, and rank in class. For it is not to be expected that 
 much class feeling or social feeling will exist where seniors, freshmen and 
 servants are grouped in the same house, in one promiscuous neighborhood. 
 
 In the above view general influences have been considered, which go to 
 injure the general moral health of the whole college, students, alumni and all. 
 It is difficult to treat of generals, and the theory we have advanced may seem, 
 and may be a wild and visionary one. But if we allow this, there still remain 
 other arguments against the present system of managing the rooms, which are 
 undeniable. They do not seem nearly as important to us as those we have 
 urged above ; but they have the advantage of being practical, and may have a 
 much greater influence upon the college public. These are derived from the 
 bad influence exerted upon each student as an individual and through him, as 
 before, upon the long sufiering college. 
 
 Let us first look at the condition of the rooms themselves, when assigned. 
 They are in wretched repair, almost inexcusably so. Old and worn out floors 
 ruinous to decent carpets, may be a necessity : tumble down ceilings and bro- 
 ken plaster, are often attendants of respectable poverty, which we believe to 
 be the condition of Mother Brown; but broken ill fitted window sashes, 
 through which the winter wind whistles hoarsely, and cracked doors giving 
 unrestrained admission to lively breezes, surely these are badges of shiftless 
 wretchedness, and admit of no excuse. These, however, are rule, not the 
 exception, here. Many rooms cannot be comfortably heated in very cold 
 days by any exercise of human ingenuity. The more cotton one stuffs in one 
 side of the window, the larger grows the biting stream, of air which enters by 
 the other. The doors are not much better. They are charged in the bill, 
 when renewed, at from six to ten dollars each, and certainly ought to be good 
 at that price. But no, the cheapest kind of doors are used, ill made of light 
 half-seasoned pine wood. • The panels of a number which have been measured 
 are actually less than three-eighths of an inch thick in some places. Talk of 
 its being a crime to smash doors — it is the most natural thing in the world to 
 tear down such a cobweb. The door of this very sanctum has longitudinal 
 cracks down three of its four panels, from which the icy breezes are fanning 
 our heated brains, even as we write. One was caused by the shrinking of the 
 green wood, one by a small piece of coal thrown against it, and one by a well- 
 intentioned but too vehement knock for admission. These apertures not only 
 admit the rude unwelcome Boreas, but also destroy all privacy, and render 
 " sporting one's oak," i. e. one's three eighths of an inch of pine, — a hollow 
 mockery. In many of these apartments the paint and paper are old, tattered 
 and rusty, — the furniture is broken, rickety and of many fashions, and they 
 Jixe lighted in the evening by the pauper method of oil lamps. There is gener- 
 
HOME MATTEES. 127 
 
 ally evident, in fact, a sort of squalid carelessness, which is the antipodes of 
 what one would naturally expect to find in the room of a cultivated literary 
 man. 
 
 This is partly due to the fact that if a man papers and paints his room, and 
 puts in gas pipes, and the college sees fit to turn him out, or if for any reason 
 he has to leave, he receives no equivalent for his outlay, and whether he 
 wishes it or not his successor gets the benefit of his property. This is a thing 
 which it is not in human nature to put up with, so each one says to himself 
 that the college ought to make the rooms decent, if they are to be assigned 
 arbitrarily, — reconciles himself to shabbiness, spends a half-hour of his valu- 
 able time daily in cleaning greasy lamps and puts his money in his pocket. 
 After he has done thus much, he is not likely to buy neat and nice furniture, 
 or carpets to put in such a room, and he naturally will pick up any old stuff 
 which will serve his purpose. Besides this organic unpleasantness which 
 is universal, there are a number of other quite prevalent peculiarities visible 
 in the rooms, which are far from conducing to domestic refinement and ele- 
 gance. Thus in many of them, one notices about the student's bed a certain 
 dingy and frowzy appearance, in strong contrast to the snowy fragrant sheets 
 which his mother has so often tucked snugly about him, with a good night 
 kiss, in childhood's days. There is also noticable the all-pervading presence 
 of copious dust. These peculiarities are due to the ingenious plan of employ- 
 ing male chambermaids. Although women are employed in other colleges, 
 as in most civilized countries, who keep the rooms scrupulously clean at rea- 
 sonable rates, it has seemed advisable to employ male amateurs, rather than 
 skilled professionals of the gentler sex, to care for the domestic decencies of 
 the students of Brown. 
 
 No neat fingered Phillis makes our homes pure and sweet, dusting and 
 sweeping with fastidious care. Our housewives, on the contrary, are Scotia's 
 hard handed sons of toil, who have been seduced from the plough tail, and 
 from before the mast, by the prospect of light and easily shirkable work, in 
 smoothing our pillows and taking care of our treasured knick-knacks. 
 Instead of expatiating in the amount of dirt which has stuck to some agricul- 
 turists who have figured, from time to time, among these curators, or on the 
 lofty temper of those among them who have been previously accustomed to 
 climb the towering mast, or the leisurely habits which some have acquired as 
 professional 'loafers, we will notice some results which will speak louder 
 against them than anything we could say. All are dissatisfied and disgusted. 
 All complain : but the strongest proof that could be had of the uselessness of 
 the servants is, that many men have dispensed with them entirely, and have 
 utterly forbidden them admission to their rooms, although their wages are 
 charged in the bill whether they are employed or not. This class, we are 
 proud to say, comprises a very large number. Those of them who feel able, 
 hire a private servant, while those who cannot afford this, yet will not be 
 forced by poverty into filth, have no alternative but to spend precious time in 
 doing the unmanly and petty work themselves. And they do it. But unjust 
 and unpleasant as it is to these fellows to pay for their work and to do it too, 
 still these are not the ones who really suffer most. The most harm is 
 done to those who, from indolence or any motive, suffer themselves to 
 live in the dirt which is inseparable from a room cared for only by these 
 5 
 
128 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 servants; men who, from their habits and the varied nature of their occupa- 
 tions, are always in an unfit state to be about a sitting room or much less a 
 bed chamber. 
 
 There are two of these servants, one to each building, and for their wages, 
 all the students, one hundred and ninety-three in number, are charged six 
 dollars each per annum. Upon each of the rooms, seventy-five in number, 
 fourteen dollars per annum extra is charged, making the whole amount paid 
 for these servants by the students, two thousand two hundred and eight dol- 
 lars. This calculation, of course, excludes the servant in the laboratory, who 
 is, or ought to be, paid by an extra charge upon those who alone have tj;ie 
 benefit of his services. Now suppose the common sense method to be adopted 
 and women hired to do the chamber work and cleaning. We have it on un- 
 impeachable authority, that for two hundred dollars each per annum, women 
 could be hired, unexceptionable in point of age and homeliness and skilled in 
 household cares, who would keep these old buildings as neat as a pin. They 
 would live away from the college and board themselves, and come daily and 
 do their work at that rate. Suppose four to be hired for eight hundred dol- 
 lars per annum. For five hundred dollars per annum a capable man could be 
 obtained in the same way, who would give his whole attention to the grounds 
 and out-buildings. It is not to be expected that the servants under the pre- 
 sent regime should have much time to spare for the grounds, after making 
 two or three dozen beds per diem each, and cleaning out as many rooms, 
 besides doing innumerable odd jobs, such as making fires, carrying water, etc. ; 
 but if this system were adopted, the paths in the front yard might be pro- 
 perly graded, and perhaps there would no longer be a necessity for hoeing out 
 the hideous little gutters which are gradually destroying our beautiful la,wn 
 with their ragged meanderings. 
 
 But to return to the figures. After these servants had been procured, we 
 should have two-and-a-half times as many servants, and there would still 
 remain a clear saving of nine hundred and eight dollars a year, as compared 
 with the present expenses. This might remain in the students pockets where 
 we will guarantee it would be acceptable, or it could be well appropriated for 
 many purposes. It would do much towards putting the rooms in good repair ; 
 — would make a magnificent post-graduate scholarship ; or might be the basis 
 of a gymnasium fund. In short this economy would be equal to a direct en- 
 dowment of fifteen thousand dollars, to say nothing of the additional respect- 
 ability the arrangement would produce, which could not be estimated in 
 money. Besides these gains to the college in general, students would no 
 longer be obliged to choose between dirt and corruption on the one hand, and 
 paying immense prices, or spending study hours in housework on the other. 
 And 'twere well that it should be so, for flesh is weak, and it is probable that 
 dirt would always prevail under these circumstances. 
 
 We have said that we do not have refining culture here, although we may 
 justly claim high education and good moral influence. If we have not said 
 enough to support the statement, let us suppose, for an instant, that Mr. 
 Matthew Arnold, the Oxford apostle of sweetness and light, were to visit 
 Providence. He would naturally come first to the college, the home of culture- 
 Suppose then, that without displaying to Mm the squalid discomfort of our 
 homes, we showed him the barbarous contrivances which disfigure our 
 
 ill 
 
HOME MATTEES. 129 
 
 entries, and often render unhealthy the very air we breathe. Would he not 
 be astonished that such things are permitted here, in a venerable institution of 
 learning, in the midst of the highest civilization ? Or suppose him to be 
 carried down to the building in the rear of University Hall. Could he, after 
 seeing that horrible place, ever connect the idea of refinement with this 
 institution again? Would he not rather deny the name of a first-class place 
 of education, to a college which sustains in daily sight of its students, things 
 so degrading to the perceptions of order, propriety, neatness, and to all those 
 faculties which are commonlysupposed to distinguish a gentleman. 
 
 Before concluding this subject, let us consider, for a moment, the all-per- 
 vading powers of this dirt element. " Cleanliness," saith the proverb, "ia 
 next to Godliness," and it might have been added that dirt was next to the 
 devil ; for it is the arch demoralizer. If it is allowed in a man's room, it is not 
 long before it appears on his clothes, — on his person, — under his finger nails. 
 And if it once effects a lodgment there, it always strikes through into the 
 mind and conversation of its victim, and the very springs of purity and lofti- 
 ness are choked up. 
 
 Finally, for the sake of the college and students in general, and of the 
 healthy growth of every individual, we ask that this system of dirt and abuses 
 be looked into and reconstructed ; that all available rooms be placed at the 
 disposal of students ; that they be put in repair ; that an assignment of all of 
 them be made annually, which shall associate classmates, and be based on 
 length of residence in buildings ; seniority in college and rank in class ; that 
 women be employed to take care of the rooms at reasonable rates ; that the 
 entry nuisance be abated, and the out-buildings be kept in decent order. 
 
 When these things shall have been done ; — when the dormitories are filled 
 with students, and they feel that the college really takes some efiicient care 
 for their personal welfare, — is it not probable, nay, certain, that the spirit of 
 respect and afiection for her will increase mightily ; that the numbers in the 
 ■catalogue will swell rapidly ; that our social life will take a more healthy tone ; 
 that a broader and nobler culture will arise, and that no future generations of 
 alumni will deserve the stigma of lacking " Esprit de Corps." 
 
 *'In Memorjam. 
 
 ROBINSON POTTER DUNN." 
 
 Since our last issue, a beautiful volume has been printed, bearing the above 
 title, and consecrated, as the title indicates, to the memory of the late Profes- 
 sor Dunn. We have read it with the utmost interest. While it renews the 
 sense of all that we have lost, in the removal of our departed instructor and 
 friend, it helps to recall him more vividly to our minds, and to give us, as a 
 lasting possession, a clear image of all that he was, and all that he did, not 
 only during his residence here, but during all his life. It is a precious 
 volume, in which some of those friends, who knew and loved him well, have 
 united in the pious task of gathering up some worthy and enduring memorials 
 of the beauty and excellence of his life and character. It contains selections 
 
130 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 from Professor Dunn's sermons and writings, together with Professor 
 Diman's Commemoratiye Discourse, and a biographical sketch, written by 
 Rey. Dr. Caldwell. In this sketch — a likeness drawn ad mvum by the hand 
 of an intimate friend — we have been especially interested in the records 
 which are giren of Professor Dunn's earliest years ; for they show how early, 
 under the influences of a Christian home, he began to know by personal 
 experience, as well as by devout study, those great Christian truths, which, 
 in his manhood, he so eloquently illustrated by precept and by example. The 
 biography contains papers written by different friends, which are devoted to 
 different periods of Professor Dunn's life ; one by Professor Gammell, on his 
 student life in college, another by Dr. W. M. Paxton, which presents ' a view 
 of his career as a theological student at Princeton ; and in another, President 
 Angell has treated the period of sixteen years, during which he was a College 
 Professor. The volume contains six of Professor Dunn's Sermons, which 
 illustrate his characteristic excellences as a writer, and his power in differ- 
 ent kinds of pulpit discourse. All of us, who knew him as a teacher, and 
 who remember, with gratitude, with what an earnest self-devotion he labored 
 to promote the good of his pupils, may readily discover in his exposition of 
 " The Law of Sacrifice," the secret of his own successful influence. In that 
 sermon, how clearly and amply is it taught, by the history of the church and 
 of individual Christians, that God has bound together in indissoluble union, 
 loss and gain, sacrifice and success, death and life. And as we now dwell in 
 memory upon his own spiritual history, what a meaning is there for us, in the 
 words of the closing passage, " So let us live, so let us be willing to die." 
 Such indeed was his own life, such was his death. And his, too, is now 
 one of those "many crowns, which shine as the brightness of the firma- 
 ment." As we think of that pure life, and of its tranquil, happy end, 
 and of that " unfading crown, so early won," we may recall and each 
 adopt the words of the good Henry Vaughan : 
 
 " O let me, like him, know my End, 
 
 And be as glad to find it 1 
 And whatsoe'r thou shalt Commend, 
 
 Still let thy servant mind it 1 
 Then make my soul white as his owne 
 
 My faith as pure and steady, 
 And deck me, Lord, with the same Crowne 
 
 That has crownd him already I " 
 
 HENRY TRACY TAYLOR. 
 
 At a meeting of the Class of '70, held March 5th, 1869, the following 
 resolutions were adopted : 
 
 Since it has pleased God in His all-wise Providence, suddenly to remove 
 from us our beloved friend and classmate, Henry Tracy Taylor, therefore. 
 
 Resolved, That in his death we deplore the loss of one who, for his frank 
 and noble manliness, for his honest and upright character, for firmness of 
 purpose and generosity of heart, was respected and loved by all of his asso- 
 ciates, 
 
HOME MATTERS. 131 
 
 Resolved, That we ever cherish the memory of one who was bound to us by 
 so many ties of mutual atFection and respect, during three years of our Col- 
 lege course, and whose example will never cease to exercise an influence for 
 good upon our future lives. 
 
 Resolved, That in the depths of our grief, we still remember those on whom 
 this bereavement falls more heavily than on ourselves, and in this their great 
 affliction, we extend to them our heartfelt sympathies, commending them to 
 the consolations of His love, who doeth all things well. 
 
 Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be sent to the family of the 
 deceased, to the press for publication, and that the Class wear the usual badge 
 of mourning for thirty days. 
 
 Every year, during their college life, have the Class of '70 been called upon 
 to mourn the departure of one from their number. Twice had the door been 
 opened through which all must pass ; and now another has gone before. 
 Death, bearing the inverted torch, has gently led him away. Well does it 
 become us all to lament our grievous loss and feebly echo the praise his 
 own life sang. 
 
 In the year 1866, Henry Tracy Taylor, entered the University for the Par- 
 tial Course of three years. Since that time, however, he had determined 
 upon such an extension of his studies, that he would have graduated in the 
 regular class with which he entered. In all departments a good scholar and 
 mastering well whatever he undertook, he was especially inclined towards the 
 researches of Natural Science. Beyond the College walls, in the games of the 
 Campus, his zeal in all sports, his strong arm, his quick hand and foot, gave 
 him much prominence, and placed him high among the nine, who constituted 
 the ball club of his class. In his pleasures, again, as in college pursuits, his 
 taste led him to an enthusiastic study of nature, and many an excursion was 
 made through the suburbs of the city, among the white cliffs of Limerock or 
 over the hills of Cumberland. Often too has he rambled along the banks of 
 that river, whose well-told tradition, his first and last contribution, now 
 appears in these pages. But beyond all these traits, and as their source, 
 was his honest, noble, manly character. A contemplation of this young life, 
 marked as it was by constant striving after knowledge of his duty, and obedience 
 to its mandates, leads us to exclaim with the German poet. 
 
 '• Who in life's battle firm doth stand 
 Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms 
 Into the Silent Land I " 
 
 The College Muscle. 
 
 Since our last issue, an arrangement has been made by the authorities of 
 our University, with Messrs. Hunt and West, by which the use of their new 
 Gymnasium is secured to the students, for a period of four months, from the 
 first of March. The terms are as satisfactory as could be expected, and the 
 action of the college in bearing one-half the expense, leaves the actual cost 
 to the student a comparatively trifling sum. The announcement has been 
 hailed with joy, and the names of more than a hundred collegians already 
 stand on the books. 
 
132 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 At five o'clock, P. M., the Gymnasium presents and inspiring appearance. 
 To secure equal and varied exercise, as well as to avoid the confusion usually 
 attendant upon large crowds, the future athletes are divided into classes, and 
 everything proceeds with regularity and smoothness. "Class, No. 1, at the 
 parallel bars!" is the order. "Class, No. 2, vault! Class, No. 3, at the 
 horizontal bar ! " Under the direction of their leaders, they bend to their 
 work, awkwardly at first, but with a keen zest and a determination that will 
 soon train their unskilled muscles to. suppleness and endurance. The class 
 in Calisthenics, numbering sometimes a hundred, perform their various evo- 
 lutions ; throwing their hands into the air, bending to the floor, striking out 
 furiously with clenched fist, now hopping on alternate feet, anon running in 
 long lines about the hall, till the faces of these quiet students glow, as few of 
 them have glowed since the last foot-ball game. Then for a hot or cold or a 
 steam bath, and the student stands before us, invigora,ted in body and mind, 
 and prepared to expend, on base-ball or Moral Philosophy, more energy than 
 yesterday was at his command. The Gymnasium has given him clearer 
 faculties, a new life ! 
 
 At the proper hour, the prospective boat crew may be seen pulling away as 
 though actually on the waters of Quinsigamond ; their brawny muscles and 
 their evident pluck, suggesting to the imaginative beholder, bright visions of 
 that self-same crew coming down on the home stretch, with Harvard and 
 Yale in the dim distance behind them. May those visions be realized ! Here, 
 too, are the base-ball men, lifting dumb-bells, of fabulous weight, with an ease 
 that seems to annihilate the attractive power of gravity on those masses of 
 iron, or poising the Indian clubs, swelling their biceps and hardening the 
 "pitching muscle," till scoffers stand overwhelmed and aghast. 
 
 To those who already enjoy the benefits of the Gymnasium, we offer the 
 following suggestions : — 1st., Let your exercise be symmetrical. Don't prac- 
 tise one set of muscles at the expense of all the others. 2dly., Let it be reg- 
 ular and steady. A good fifteen minutes pull, for example, is better than 
 thrice the time divided into twenty aimless and capricious exercises. 3dly., 
 If you propose to make the best possible use of your time, discard those beau- 
 tiful but difiicult evolutions, which seem to be the pride of the initiated, and 
 the ambition of outsiders. They take time from the necessary, regular work, 
 and lead to strains, ruptures, and sometimes to still more deplorable acci- 
 dents. To those who are still hesitating about joining the Gymnasium, on 
 the ground that it takes too much time, or that, not intending to row or play 
 ball, they need not, therefore, develop and augment their normal quantum of 
 muscle, we recommend the perusal of the following words, from the pen of 
 one thoroughly familiar with the subject : — 
 
 "Much depends upon the condition of the physical system. A large por- 
 tion of the life of many men is spent in habitual violation of the laws by which 
 the free use of the mind is governed. If we would obtain the power of using 
 our intellect to the greatest advantage, we must habitually obey those laws 
 which have been imposed upon us by our Creator. The diet of a student 
 should be light and rather spare than abundant. A student also requires reg- 
 ular and sufficient daily exercise, which should generally be carried to the 
 point of full preparation. His sleep should be all that health required, and he 
 should invariably retire at an early hour. His study and sleeping room 
 
HOME MATTERS. 133 
 
 should be well- ventilated, and his ablutions should he daily and abundant. It 
 is, however, the fact that students are liable to err in almost all these particu- 
 lars. They pay no attention either to the quantity or quality of their food. 
 Though perhaps in early life accustomed to labor, as soon as they commence a 
 course of study, they forsake not only labor but all manner of exercise. If 
 anxious to improve, they study until late at night, thus destroying the power 
 of application for the following day. They live in heated and ill ventilated 
 rooms. Measuring their progress by the number of hours employed in study, 
 they remain over their books till the power of attention is exhausted. The 
 result of all this, it is painful to contemplate. Broken down in health and 
 enfeebled in mind, the man in early life is turned out upon society a con- 
 firmed and mediocre invalid, equally unfitted for the habits either of active or 
 sedentary life." 
 
 This is the testimony of Dr. Wayland, who studied student life at Brown 
 for thirty-two years. If that is not enoiigh to satisfy the unconverted student, 
 let him go to the Gymnasium and work faithfully for an hour ; let him mark 
 how the usually sluggish blood dances through his veins, and every limb thrills 
 with the instinct of life and latent strength. Let him do this every day for a 
 week. Then, if he does not relish his meals better, and find his evening 
 study grow continualy easier and more successful, his physical organism 
 must be incurably effete. 
 
 The College authorities have been thoughtful and generous in effecting 
 this arrangement, and if we really need and desire a Gymnasium of our own, 
 we should manifest our appreciation of their action, by a faithful use of this 
 one. If the exercises at the Gymnasium are sustained as they should be, 
 there will be a most marvelous improvement visible in all athletic sports 
 this summer. If the boating men and ' ' ye mighty men at ye bat " continue their 
 daily drill, they will soon be able to demonstrate why the score of Brown has 
 always revealed more defeats than victories. 
 
 So we hope sincerely that the present enthusiasm will prove to be no evan- 
 escent excitement, but will stand the test of hard, steady work. For if, — 
 just supposing, that is, — that one of the wealthy friends of Brown had an idea 
 of building a Gymnasium on the College Grounds, is it not highly probable 
 that, should the attendance under this experimental system gradually 
 diminish to a few boating men and other devotees, the enthusiasm of our 
 prospective benefactor would suddenly "melt into air, into thin air?" 
 VerbuTTi sap. 
 
 We are able to assure our readers, upon the best authority, that the pros- 
 pect of a stirring season in Base Ball is good, notwithstanding some misrepre- 
 sentations that have lately been made. The wisdom of affording, to base-ball 
 men especially, the benefits of a good Gymnasium, is already manifest in the 
 condition of the University Nine. We prophesy that they will be in better 
 training this season than ever. Undsr their efficient Captain, Mr. Charles 
 Hitchcock, they seemed determined to work and the College to sustain them. 
 A large order, including bats, bases and balls, has just been filled; and cor- 
 respondence shows that match games may be expected with Yale, Harvard 
 and other Colleges. A good University Nine raises the reputation of a Col- 
 lege in a wonderful degree, as was evinced in our last year's campaign ; but 
 
134 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 let it not be forgotten, that to secure such a Nine, the whole College must 
 stand ready to support it with money and personal influence. Class organiza- 
 tions must not stand in the way of the University Mne, but should be sub- 
 servient to its highest development. At whatever loss to special interests, 
 the general interest of the University should be sought, in the constant prac- 
 tice of its Nine. As soon as the season fairly opens, the University Nine 
 should begin to play; not with inferior "scrub" nines, but with " foemen 
 worthy of its steel," with the best players that can be selected. City clubs 
 will aflbrd a good field for practice. Match games with the " Blackstones " 
 or " Olympics," may be made instrumental in vanquishing our more formid- 
 able competitors of Williams or Harvard. We would suggest, also, that 
 more games be played on the Training Ground. By constant practice on the 
 Campus, our men acquire a contracted style of playing, which unfits them for 
 a wider field of action, and which is an evident characteristic of their game, 
 when brought into contrast with any first-class Nine. The out field has to be 
 posted within the trees that line the Campus, and each man becomes accus- 
 tomed to guard a comparatively limited space. The strikers, too, insensibly 
 become careless, when a feeble tap to left field enables them to gain their 
 base. This must and does count in a close game. Whatever lowers the 
 standard, wUl surely take from our tallies on the battle field ; whatever raises 
 it, will as surely add to them. 
 
 We are glad to see such a hearty spirit exhibited in the Freshman class. 
 They have an excellent Nine, and they show an evident and laudable intention 
 to support it. They have done for it what no other class has done since we 
 can remember, viz., purchased, from their own resources, a complete class 
 uniform, which the Nine are determined to make good use of in the field. 
 The uniform is a very handsome one, the material being a grey cloth, of 
 rather a lighter shade than the University uniform, elegantly trimmed with 
 brown, and with " '72 " embroidered in the same glorious color. The Fresh- 
 men have shown pluck already ; now all that is wanted is an efficient organi- 
 zation and good discipline, and they will deserve and obtain success against 
 the Magenta and the Blue. 
 
 The Boat Club, a few days since, elected the following officers for the 
 ensuing term : 
 
 G. D. Hersey, Captain; C. C. Luther, 1st Lieutenant; T. Burgess, 2d 
 Lieutenant; D. Beckwith, Purser; L. W. Clapp, Clerk; G. D. Hersey, 
 A. E. Sawyer, G. Hitchcock, Prudential Committee. 
 
 As the faithful chronicle of College news, the Brunonian takes pleasure in 
 noticing the increased interest in Boating, which is manifested in College. 
 Two crews are working hard in the Gymnasium. A new wharf is building at 
 the Boat-house, new oars have been ordered, and in a few weeks we shall ex- 
 pect to see the sturdy watermen of the University, winning back the genuine 
 Brown color, which comes of exposure to sun and wind. 
 
 Good luck to the College oarsmen ! As they pull up and down the quiet 
 Seekonk, where, before their time, Roger Williams paddled his light canoe, 
 may they remember the brotherly charity which marked his life, and like him 
 keep a steady stroke and give way with a will. Yet let them be wary of prac- 
 
HOME MATTEES. 135 
 
 tically illustrating his doctrine respecting a certain ordinance ; for the igno- 
 rant oystermen alongside, not appreciating their motive, might ascribe to 
 careless rowing what was an exposition of their theological views. 
 
 Eowing is the very best of exercise. We wonder that more of our fellow- 
 students do not take to the oar, especially as Providence offers such unusual 
 facilities for its practice. No College in the country has a better opportunity 
 to excel in aquatic sports than Brown. All that is lacking is a little more 
 spirit, and we are glad to see that awakening. 
 
 Aliinini Or§^aiiizatioii. 
 
 At a meeting of Alumni, held at the last commencement, the following 
 resolutions were adopted : 
 
 Resolved, That a committee of seven be appointed to take into considera- 
 tion the plan proposed by President Caswell, for establishing post-graduate 
 scholarships ; and also to consider what other measures can be adopted by 
 the Alumni to promote the greater eflSciency and prosperity of the University : 
 and that the committee be prepared to report at a meeting of the Alumni, to 
 be held at the next commencement. 
 
 Resolved, That a standing committee of five be appointed to provide for 
 future meetings of the Alumni. 
 
 The appointment of the members of the committee was left with the Chair- 
 man of the meeting, Hon. Henry B. Anthony, who has selected the following 
 gentlemen, all of whom, it is understood, have consented to serve upon the 
 committee. President Caswell is placed at the head of the first committee, 
 and the names of the other members are as follows : 
 
 Samuel G. Howe, class of 1821 ; Lafayette S. Foster, class of 1828 ; Francis 
 W. Bird, class of 1831 ; William Gammell, class of 1831 ; John L. Lincoln, 
 class of 1836 ; Rowland Hazard, class of 1847. 
 
 The following gentlemen constitute the second committee ; 
 
 Abraham Payne, class of 1840; Thomas Durfee, class of 1846; J. L. Diman, 
 class of 1851; Alexander Farnum, class of 1852; Arnold Greene, class of 1858. 
 
 Tbe ITang Liang. 
 
 We have received the first and second numbers of this " College Punch," and 
 we take much pleasure in welcoming it to the fraternity of college periodicals. 
 The Yang Lang is handsomely printed on tinted paper, and if the last number is 
 a specimen, will be in point of style and typography, one of the handsomest pub- 
 lications in the country, of any kind. It shows a decided progressive spirit, the 
 second number being two-and-half times as large and ten times as funny as the 
 first one, and is pervaded throughout with a dashing reckless jollity, which 
 leaves a very pleasant flavor behind it. 
 
 Among the contents, we observe particularly, the second editorial, which is 
 easy, graceful and to the point, and the " College Digest," which conveys 
 information that might be made very dry, in a pleasant and easy way. The poe- 
 try is of the light kind which is read and enjoyed by all, and " In Days Gone 
 6 
 
136 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 By," has a grace and prettiness considerably above the average of college 
 poetry. Most of the jokes, too, are good. The poetical headings of the 
 burlesque story are excellent in their way. Ascribing " Hoky Dinky Day " 
 to Tennyson, and " Not for Joe " to Lord Byron, etc., are among those as- 
 tounding absurdities which disarm all ill-natured criticism, and make one 
 laugh in spite of himself. The extracts from favorable notices are funny. 
 The Yale Literary Magazine said, " The idea is novel and aside from the horrid 
 execution of the wood-cuts, we don't see why it may not succeed." The 
 "Yang Lang," with comic audacity, takes the bull by the horns and puts it 
 thus : " The idea is novel and * * * * ^e don't see why it may not succeed." It 
 quotes what is said by a number of well-known dailies. Thus, "From the 
 London Times — Nothing!" " From the New York World — Nothing!" The 
 Herald indulged in some disparaging remarks on the infant Punch, and he 
 expresses his opinion about it. — " From the Providence Herald. — * * * * 
 Nothing ! " 
 
 We are glad to see the Yang Lang for many reasons. It is lively and we 
 want stir and liveliness. It is an institution and we need institutions, in 
 order that fellows may get the practice and skill in supporting them, which 
 they will need, when called upon to help support the institutions of the State 
 and Country. It will be on the look-out for absurdities, and will direct 
 against any which exist among us, the keen and cutting lash of ridicule. The 
 serious and the sour will object that the Yang Lang has no articles of great 
 profundity. But we submit that it is not desirable that there should be any. 
 Light literature alone is the province of that paper ; The Bkunonian takes 
 care of the wisdom and profundity of the community. Besides this, "One 
 should take care," as Addison says, " not to grow too wise for so great a plea- 
 sure as laughter," and we hope the Yang Lang will help to unbend those 
 minds which are liable to become cracked, like the overbent bow, unless occa- 
 sionally released from the strain of excessive study. 
 
 About the wood-cuts, we think with the Yale Lit. that the execution is poor, 
 though the conception is in most cases excellent, and we hope and expect, 
 that with practice, the " Special Artist" will improve very materially. 
 
 The one thing in the Yang Lang which we feel inclined to criticise, is the 
 " Brown Items." The Cap and Bells or the mask of the jester should be 
 removed, if at all, with great care, and if the Yang Lang finds it advisable to 
 enter upon College news, it should be correct, careful and fair. We are ex- 
 tremely sorry to see that a number of unpleasant personalities appear in the 
 short space which is devoted to this department by the Yang Lang, as well as 
 some exceedingly incorrect statements. Notwithstanding this fault, which it 
 must be confessed is not a trivial one, we think the comic Monthly has made 
 a good start, and hope that it will be highly successful in the difficult field 
 which it has chosen. 
 
HOME MATTERS. 137 
 
 The I^ditor's Window Seat. 
 
 The Brunonian appears this number in new type throughout. Owing to 
 the disastrous conflagration of the Press Company's Office, the January num- 
 ber was a species of typographical mosaic-work. But here we are in our 
 new clothes, in the full development of pockets, and with buttons all over us ! 
 "We feel as though we had stepped right out of a fashion-plate ! 
 
 Let us not forget the ninth part of mankind ! We are indebted to the Press 
 Company for a stylish out-fit, and all the niceties of tailoring, and we cannot 
 allow the opportunity to pass without complimenting them on the taste and 
 technical skill manifested in all departments of their work, and acknowl- 
 edging the kindness and attention which we have ever received at their 
 hands. 
 
 The Press Company have opened their new office with increased facilities 
 for job and book-work. May they meet with that success which their enter- 
 prise and courtesy so' richly deserve ! 
 
 One day as we sat in our window-seat, dozing over an ill-written manu- 
 script, whose ink-stains and thumb-marks betrayed coarse masculinity, a rose- 
 colored note was put into our hands by the postman. It was like a sudden 
 slant of rays through cloudiness ! How bristling and bellicose the signature, 
 yet how feminine the tinted note paper, how poetic the curves of the hand- 
 writing, how delicate the aroma of it all, breathing of the toilete stand and 
 the boudoir ! 
 
 Place aux dames ! The letter appears on another page, and is an answer to 
 an article in the January number, on the " Marriage Question." Wi'th what 
 keen thrusts does "Amazon" parry the heavy blows of her adversary! How 
 glad we are that we haven't tried to solve any conundrums on this marriage 
 business ! but if our doughty brother, spoiling for a fight, shall enter the 
 lists against our fair contributor, with his blundering blade and clumsy battle- 
 axe,, really our latent chivalry and gallantry will not suffer us to remain neu- 
 tral. Dux fmrnina facti, and we now open a bridge for her retreat by closing 
 the discussion in these columns. 
 
 "Amazon" advocates, it will be seen, the co-education of the sexes, and 
 we agree with her ! Doubtless the adoption of this system at " Brown " would 
 revolutionize the college. 
 
 The residence of a matron in University Hall would become necessary. 
 Croquet would be substituted for base-ball on the Campus. A strong chap- 
 ter of Sorosis would compete with the " Hammer and Tongs." But don't you 
 see that if girls were educated at "Brown," there would be lady editors on 
 the Brunonian board? How blissful the transformation — the Window Seat 
 into a Tete-a-t^te just large enough to hold two ! O Editorial paradise ! Now 
 we can only swear at the devil ; then we would commune with angels ! 
 
 There are twenty appointments for Junior Exhibition — namely, E. B. 
 Andrews, Wm. Ashmore, jr., J. B. Bishop, Thos. Burgess, 2nd, C. S. Child, 
 R. S. Colwell, J. C. Ely, E. F. Pales, jr., T. J. Pield, I. N. Ford, Arthur 
 Lincoln, J. F. Lyon, W. H. Munro, W. T. Peck, G. W. Porter, S. Powell, jr., 
 W. M. Proctor, O. B. Rhodes, W. A. Smith, A. Williams. 
 
 The Latin Salutatory has been awarded to W. G. Peck. We understand 
 that there have been eight resignations, which will reduce the number of 
 speeches to twelve. 
 
138 COLLEGIAJSTA. 
 
 It will be seen that we have modified somewhat the department of College 
 News. Instead of culling from our exchanges the news of the various 
 Colleges from which they hail, we propose to give, frftm time to time, letters 
 from different Colleges, which letters, it is intended, will contain the principal 
 items of interest, of the Colleges from which they come. 
 
 We present, in the present number, a letter from Harvard, one from Yale 
 and one from the University of Michigan, which, we doubt not, will interest 
 our readers. 
 
 HAEVARD. — Dear Brunonian : I shall not attempt to apologize for 
 the dearth of news at Harvard since I am not responsible for it. We have 
 returned to the mill and find, like the mills of the Gods, it grinds " slow " and 
 " exceeding small." It is difficult to tell where we have not been scattered 
 during the month from Jan. 20th to Feb. 18th. Some of us have been to 
 Washington to see the lions and lambs of that vast menagerie, others have 
 indulged in duck shooting on the Atlantic coast at Hatteras, while the book- 
 worms have been thumbing dusty tomes at the Congressional, Astor, Athe- 
 naeum and Public Libraries, for materials on the Bowdoin Prize Essays. The 
 vast majority of us, however, have been more profitably employed. We have 
 been home. The cutter was taken out and we made the old mare get out of 
 her funeral pace and "Mb up" in the most approved boating fashion. I say 
 nothing of the enjoyments of home in vacation, when no conditions, no themes 
 to write, no prizes to strive for, hang over you like the sword of Damocles. 
 You all know what they are. 
 
 Since our return there had been no excitement save the Velocipede mania, 
 which has seized upon student and mucker alike. Velocipede races are now 
 on the tapis, in which glory, barked shins and torn clothes are very unequally 
 distributed, a c5.reful perusal of statistics showing a decided predominance of 
 casualities. Great is King novelty, and the Velocipede is his prophet ! 
 
 The annual supper of the Advocate Editors, contributors and invited 
 guests, came ofi" about a week ago. "Jones," who writes for the Advocate 
 was there, and he renders me envious by his account of the groaning tables. 
 It shows that our College paper pays its way and has a handsome surplus, 
 which it devotes to giving its friends an annual supper, and making additions 
 to the College Library. 
 
 It is but fair to say that this success is due mainly to the able corps of 
 Editors selected from '69 and '70, as well as to the rare ability of Mr. Morse, 
 of '70, the financial Editor. 
 
 The boating men and walkists are growling at the fresh fall of snow. Base- 
 ball men and cricketers are tossing ball in the entries in despair. The Gym- 
 nasium is well attended and the men seem to have entered on their Spring 
 training in earnest. The University crew is not yet selected, as there is con- 
 siderable doubt whether any of the last year's crew will row. They naturally 
 feel like resting on their laurels. There is a rumor, that Simmons will pull 
 
COLLEGIANA. 139 
 
 stroke and Loring bow in place of Holdredge, who has left college. In that 
 event your correspondent dares to stake the Magenta 'gainst the Blue next 
 July. At the same time we are hearing the most glowing accounts from Yale. 
 " Such a crew ! Awful time made ! Josh as trainer ! " But the absurdest report 
 is that they intend to challenge our class crews. This is what we have desired 
 all along, and vainly tried to have them agree to. It would be as great an 
 advantage to Yale as to us. Why shall we not see a "Brunonia" on lake 
 Quinsigamond next Summer? You ought to send one, since you certainly 
 have a river close at hand and muscle enough. 
 
 The elections into the two senior societies and the Phi Beta Kappa are 
 now going on. The requirements are quite laughable to outsiders, however 
 interesting they may be to the " ins." Your next neighbor won't tell you the 
 place in class, to save you from " deading," nor even speak to you, much to 
 your astonishment. As soon as the recitation is over, you see him run with 
 all his might for his room. He does the same coming to the recitation room, 
 and what is stranger still, makes wonderful " squirts" since he is obliged to 
 sit up late at nights and stay in somebody else's room, and to pass the time, 
 studies his lessons. At the end of a week his misery is over, the " working 
 for the pudding," truly named, is completed, and hard work it must be. With 
 the Pi Eta society the "work" is none the less severe. Poor B. has 
 been walking into Boston and out every day for a week, while the midnight 
 oil he has spent on the bright spots in Nero's character, would answer for the 
 most inveterate dig. There is C, who detests Mathematics, writing a twenty 
 page essay, on the importance of Buckle's Conic Sections, in the propogation 
 of profanity. 
 
 The Phi Beta Kappa elections from '70, according to scholarship, as 
 announced, with the societies to which they severally belong, are as follows : 
 
 N. W. Vaughan, Cambridge, H. P. ; W. G. Hale, Peterborough, N. H. 
 P. E. ; W. M. Spackman, Phila. P. E. ; J. S. White, Boston, P. E. ; S. E. 
 Brown, Epping, N. H. ; C. P. Spalding, Lowell, Mass. P. E. ; C. W.Kettell, 
 Charlestown, Mass. ; Joseph Healy, Boston. 
 
 The editors of the Advocate from '71, have just been selected. 
 
 They are Messrs Simpson and Deming, from the Everett Athenasum, and 
 Messrs. Bigelow, Swift and Rotch, from the Institute of 1770. These are the 
 two Sophomore societies. The selections are generally conceded to be fair, 
 and it is evident that the senior and junior editors made ability the first test. 
 
 As I write, we are all astounded at tire nomination of Mr. Charles W. 
 Eliot, of the Institute of Technology, in Boston, to the Presidency of Harvard. 
 As in the case of Mr. Adolph Borie, when nominated by President Grant, 
 everybody is asking, who is Mr. Eliot? He is a graduate of '53, I believe, 
 stroke of our first University crew ;' at one time assistant professor in the de- 
 partment of Chemistry, and author of a small history of the College, and joint 
 author with Mr. Storer, of a Chemistry the price and problems of which every 
 '69 man remembers with horror. He contributed two articles to the Peb. 
 and March numbers of the Atlantic, on the new Education, some of the erro- 
 neous statements of which, your readers will find corrected in the April num- 
 ber of that magazine, by Professor Wolcott Gibbs. 
 
 Besides, being common councilman of his native village (Cambridge) in 
 1867, I think I have stated in full the fame which our new president will 
 
140 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 bring us. The older graduates shake their heads at this nomination, but the 
 younger ones, together with the Philistines of the press, who think that we at 
 Harvard are old fogies, because we don't adopt the various suggestions that 
 are thrown out to us so gratuitously, chuckle, and call it "progress." 
 
 Mr. Eliot is not yet confirmed and on dit if he is, we are to lose Agassiz, 
 Gibbs and Eustis. Query, would the " progress " make up for such a loss ? 
 
 Your correspondent is too young and too much of a conservative on mat- 
 ters of education, to offer a competent judgment. 
 
 Quivis. 
 
 According to the Advocate, Harvard spends annually $7,080 98 over and 
 above her income. 
 
 Is it possible that Harvard has no Reading Eoom? It would seem so from 
 an article in the Advocate just received. 
 
 An important change has been made in the time of holding Commencement 
 at Harvard. It will hereafter be held on the Thursday before the last Wed- 
 nesday in June, a week subsequent to Class Day. The vacation is to be ex- 
 tended to ten weeks instead of eight as heretofore. The catalogue for 1868-9 
 shows that 1050 students are in attendance. 
 
 YALE. — Mk. Editor: You ask me to write you a letter from Yale. 
 Allow me to say, that, while your quiet assurance expressed in the words, " of 
 course you will do it," is a flattering proof of your belief in my friendship, it 
 also finds me without much available material for reply. At this time of the 
 year it is easier to write from Yale than about Yale, for the wheels of this 
 venerable college chariot roll on over the curriculum, with monotonous reg- 
 ularity and want of friction. You will agree with me that a course of smooth 
 and ordinary prosperity, although perhaps of itself the most fortunate condi- 
 tion in the world, yet possesses few attractions to the journalist. 
 
 Incidents and accidents are his daily bread, and, alas ! we are without them. 
 Prayers follow prayers, recitations succeed recitations in unvarying order. 
 The bell-ringer never " sleeps over" and the music of his tintinnabulations 
 ever wearies the ear. 
 
 Sophomores belabor freshmen after the usual custom, and freshmen with 
 their wonted zeal lay in wait for sophomores. 
 
 In open and impious defiance of the well-known philosophic law, which 
 denies that two bodies can at once occupy the same space, they frequently 
 attempt to "go through" one another on the street, by omitting the usual 
 lateral variations.- The result, as you may suppose, is a signal failure. 
 
 Consequent upon this stupidity come the usual punishments, dealt with un- 
 sparing rigors, by which sundry malignant sophomores and aspiring freshmen, 
 having ventured " like little wanton boys," for a summer or two upon a " sea 
 of glory," suddenly collapse, and cultivate for a time the arts of peace within 
 the bosom of their families. 
 . So other classes are pursuing their accustomed vocations. 
 
 Lamartine observes, that every man's life is a history, nay, even a poem, if 
 rightly interpreted. How true is this of a college ! Yet it is only a poem 
 when regarded by its children, for the poetry is not in any incidents converted 
 with its history, but rather in its ideal maternity, in the influence which it has 
 upon our character. So, if life here was eventful, and I could tell you of 
 
COLLEGIANA. 141 
 
 changes and novelty, how distantly would such things stand related to the 
 real history and poetry of college and college life. If I should write you, 
 that there are here seven hundred young men, in intellect above " average," 
 so far as college marks are an indication, in morals various, as the world 
 goes, some Christain, the rest as respectable a crowd as you will find on the 
 " broad road generally; " if I say that some mortify the flesh and some the 
 spirit, that some are faithful students, some otherwise, particularly the lat- 
 ter; if I say that some have mounted Velocipedes, by reason of whose 
 swiftness, they hope to shorten their college experience, that some have high 
 aspirations and some nothing of the sort — what does it all amount to but 
 telling you that we are not widely different from the rest of humanity ? 
 
 We have had one diversion, in shape of a gymnastic exhibition, for the 
 benefit of the Navy, resulting in the accumulation of some hundreds of dol- 
 lars. I am not a judge of gymnastic excellence, but in viewing some of the 
 physical contortions which seemed to be most satisfactory, even I could see 
 that the triumph of matter over mind was sufficiently complete. 
 
 We have also received a lot of casts from Paris, for the Gallery of Arts. 
 One of Laocoon, engaged, I suppose, in a permanent struggle with the brist- 
 ling serpents, another of Venus and others ; of which you will pardon me, if 
 I forbear to speak, as I never had the pleasure of an introduction. 
 
 The weather <of late has been a living witness to the truth of the old pro- 
 verb, that, " when God wills, all winds bring rain." When we were singing, 
 " Come, Gentle Spring," ethereal mildness did'nt come. In fact it has not 
 come yet. A day of snow and rain, a week of mud and execrable streets. 
 
 If the Shepherd of Salisbury Plains had been accustomed to polish his 
 boots, the spirit of criticism would have seized him, in contemplation of the 
 horrors of a New Haven winter. 
 
 I am reminded, old friend, as I conclude, that for you and for me, the 
 opportunities and pleasures of college days, are swiftly fading, that life and 
 " carking cares " are just before us. Yet while we linger on the brink of 
 fate, before the surgings hide us one from another, let me bid you " God 
 speed." A pleasant voyage, comrade, and the kindest wishes of 
 
 Your old friend, 
 
 w. G. s. 
 
 MICHIGAN UNIVEESITY.— Deak Brunonian : The catalogue of the 
 University shows that there were, at the date of its publication, 1114 students, 
 424 of whom were in the Literary, 358 in the Medical and 342 in the Law 
 departments, respectively. 
 
 The Legislature have repealed the law requiring a chair of Homoepathy to 
 be established in connection with the University, and have granted, without 
 restriction, 15,000 dollars to be paid yearly to it. 
 
 Considering this money as the yearly interest of a certain principal, the 
 fund of the institution is now equal to about 700,000 dollars. 
 
 Three bills are now pending in the Legislature to remove the Agricultural 
 College from Lansing ; to establish a Female College ; and to erect a new 
 building for the convenience of those who believe in the doctrines of Hahnne- 
 mann, all to be in connection with the University. 
 
142 COLLEGIAIS^A. 
 
 It has been proposed, and warmly advocated in some directions, to combine 
 the University Magazine and the University Chronicle, in the form of a 
 College paper. We earnestly hope the change will not be made. "We see no 
 reason why such a University cannot support these two publications. Both 
 are a credit to the University. 
 
 CORNELL UNIVERSITY.— The following we clip from the Cornell Era: 
 From action recently taken by the Eaculty, it is evident that the course and 
 class system will be very shortly abandoned. Indeed, it was adopted merely 
 for the temporary convenience of organization. After next year there will be 
 no-such thing as Ereshmen, Sophomores, Juniors and Seniors. Instead of a 
 four years' course, there will be examinations for degrees whenever students 
 request them. Whoever passes these examinations can receive his B. A., or 
 B. S., or Ph. B., even if he has been no more than two years in the Univer- 
 sity. This is in accordance with the usage at all the great schools of conti- 
 nental Europe. 
 
 EXCHANGES. — Magazines : The Michigan Univ. Magazine, Tale Lit, 
 College Days, Index Universitatis, The Dartmouth, The Griswold Collegian, 
 Williams' Quao'terly and Journal of Educat%on. 
 
 'Papers. — The Harvard Advocate, Amherst Student, The College Argus, 
 The Trinity Tablet, Cornell Era, University Chronicle, University Repor- 
 ter, Indiana Student, EureTca College Vidette, Home Journal, Yang Lang. 
 . We congratulate the Yale Lit. on the merited praise it is receiving from all 
 quarters. It stands at the head of College periodicals, not only in point of 
 age, but more especially in point of literary excellence. We are especially 
 glad to receive the Home Journal. We consider it one of the best literary 
 papers in the country. It furnishes a kind of literature to be found nowhere 
 else. It is devoted chiefly to the cultivation of the beautiful, its motto being, 
 " Take care of the beautiful, the useful will take care of itself." We have 
 placed it in the Reading Room, and commend it to the attention of those who 
 frequent that attractive room. 
 
 The Harvard Advocate sustains well its reputation as a first class College 
 paper. We notice that the last number comes to us with its name changed 
 from the Advocate to the Harvard Advocate. The Advocate is so well known 
 that it would seem hardly necessary to add the Harvard; however the 
 change is a slight one. We trust the Editors of '71, just elected, will keep 
 up the good reputation which the Advocate justly merits. 
 
 Williams Quarterly, though by no means a new publication, comes to us 
 for the first time. We heartily welcome it. It is a model of neatness, but 
 its articles are full of sound sense. 
 
 Index Universitatis is a neat little magazine published monthly by the stu- 
 dents of the University of Chicago. It bids fair to become an excellent 
 magazine. 
 
 College Days considers that, "as a literary venture it has no reason to be 
 ashamed." We would suggest, as an improvement, that it adds nothing to 
 its literary character by appropriating too freely the product of other men's 
 brains, without giving due credit for the same. 
 
 The Trinity Tablet is certainly improved by its new form. But it is alto- 
 gether too much like an imitation of the Advocate, 
 
illi^ Iptt^tiiait 
 
 vox, II. 
 
 DAVID DO">WIE, Jr., 
 
 I. NELSON FORD, 
 
 JU]VI3, 1869. 
 
 EDITORS FOR '69. 
 
 HENRY T. GRANT, Jr., 
 
 EDITORS FOR '70. 
 WALTER C. HAMM, 
 
 FRANK LAWTON, Jr., 
 
 J. F. LYON. 
 
 THE LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUR. 
 
 The admirers of Hawthorne will remember the chapter in the 
 Marble Faun entitled "The Walk on the Campagna." Kenyon, 
 the American sculptor, in his search for Hilda, discovers among 
 the ruins of a suburban villa a broken, yet beautiful antique statue 
 of Venus. The delicate arm and exquisite head had been severed 
 from the body, and the whole had become stained and corroded 
 in its long sleep of the ages. But when the skilled hand of the 
 sculptor had removed the dust and nicely adjusted the broken 
 parts the whole appeared to breathe with new life and warmth 
 and the fabled goddess in all her grace and beauty seemed to lay 
 sleeping before him. 
 
 So it often is with the earliest and fairest portions of a nation's 
 literature. For centuries they are concealed under the rude and 
 unintelligible remains of their original language and "the spoils 
 of time" that accumulate as civilization and learning advance ; 
 and though of intrinsic merit they await the torch of some literary 
 Kenyon to restore their bmied fragments when they appear with 
 new and more graceful charms. The comparison is especially 
 true of the old cycle of Arthurian Legends, or the Romance of 
 King Arthur. For a long time they were preserved in the bad 
 
144 THE LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUR. 
 
 Latin and worse French of the Middle Ages. It was reserved 
 for good old Sir Thomas Malory to compile and translate them 
 from the dull Norman chronicles into a charming half poetic 
 prose whose simplicity suggests the infancy of a pure Enghsh 
 style. He had probably spent his life in dreaming over the 
 French scrolls that he had colleAed around him in some old 
 baronial castle, whose ancient walls and medieval architecture 
 inspired within him a love of chivalry and heroic deeds. Arthur 
 still lived in poetry and song as the Flower of Kings, and 
 Malory rendered a tribute of honor to his memory and a valua- 
 ble service to literature by preserving the most popular romances 
 of the Round Table. His work was given to the English pub- 
 lic in 1485, from the press of the enthusiastic Caxton, the first 
 English printer, who believed that he was serving God and his 
 countrymen by printing it ;" and as if anticipating the condem- 
 nation of its morality nearly a century later by the staid old 
 tutor of the Maiden Queen, he quaintly says in his preface — 
 "but for to give faith that all is true that is contained herein ye 
 be at your liberty. Do after the good and leave the evil and it 
 shall bring you to a good fame and fair renown." But the old 
 English forms of Malory's edition in spite of its simple style 
 have few attractions for modern readers. It needed a purer 
 taste and a riper scholarship to reclothe it in new robes of beauty, 
 and most of all for the poet laureate of England to transform 
 good prose into still better poetry, and to invest the fairest of 
 these legends with the charms of his matchless diction and fancy 
 in the Idyls of the King. Over these modern versions we can 
 dreaiji, like old Malory, of the loves of Guinivere and the justs ' 
 of the good King Arthur, and, as Tennyson says : 
 
 " Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds 
 Walking about the gardens and the halls 
 Of Camelot as in the days that were." 
 
 These legends date back as early as the sixth century. Their 
 chief interest clusters around Arthur, the last of the British 
 kings. Little authentic is known of this famous hero, but in 
 the dim twilight that has settled over the early period of English 
 history we see him as the last and noblest of the British princes, 
 " Lone sitting on the shores of old romance," 
 
THE LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUE. 145 
 
 weeping for his fallen queen and lost country, like Achilles for 
 his loved Briseis on the shores of the ^gean. So vague and 
 fanciful are the accounts of his life, that when history tries to 
 seize him with her gropmg hand, his form and substance are lost, 
 like the golden hair of his dead queen in the grasp of the sacri- 
 ligious monk. He dwells in what Longfellow calls "the border 
 land of old romance," and here as king he reigns supreme. The 
 story goes that on the death of Uther, the preceding king, 
 Arthur was chosen to fill the vacant throne by the advice and 
 assistance of the o-reat enchanter Merlin. It was the turnino; 
 point in the history qf the Welsh as a nation. The great tide 
 of the Saxon invasion had bdgun to sweep over the country an 
 was soon to destroy the last national monuments of tlieir pride. 
 All the glory of their former kings culminates in the life of 
 Arthur. He drove the Scots and Picts back to their mountain 
 fastnesses, and bore the standard of the great Pendragon in 
 triumph through Ireland ; he destroyed the pagan temples and 
 restored Christianity. Now we see him stoutly resisting the 
 demand of the Romans for tribute, now passing into foreign 
 countries and winning by his magic sword a hundred battles, 
 then returning a victorious king crowned with honors to his 
 devoted subjects. Now he gathers his brave knights around 
 him and tries in vain to beat back the crimson surges of invasion 
 that roll resistlessly onward. 
 
 But it is his position at the head of the early chivalry of the 
 world that makes Arthur tower above all other heroes of romance. 
 He held his court at Caerleon, on the river Usk, in Wales. His 
 queen Guinevere, made familiar to modern readers by Tenny- 
 son's beautiful idyl, was the fairest woman of her times. Bewitch- 
 ing and enchanting as a fairy queen, impassioned as if she had 
 worn the cestus of Venus from her childhood, with her blue eyes, 
 golden hair and sunny face she rises before us from the old ocean 
 of time, like the Grecian goddess from the surge of the sea. Sur- 
 rounded by ladies scarcely less beautiful than herself, and by 
 knights hardly less brave and renowned than Arthur, their court 
 became as famous as that of Charlemagne at a later date. Here 
 was Vivien, the laughing coquette of her time^ who stole Merlin's 
 secret by her seeming fair words and made his gray hairs a crown 
 
146 THE LEGENDS OF KESTG ARTHUR. 
 
 of shame. Here was Enid, the lily of constancy and purity ; 
 and Lavmcelot, the bravest of the brave, and weakest of the 
 weak, through whose guilty love for the queen the downfall of 
 the court was hastened. It was the bright morning-time of 
 chivalry. From Arthur's palace his knights went forth to free 
 the captive and remove the tyrant ; to deliver the enchanted and 
 destroy the giants that, like the great dragon of the Fa^ry Queen, 
 spread terror and destruction among the people, Arthur him- 
 self was the Sir Folko Montfaugon of his time, the idol of his 
 subjects, the ideal Christian knight, "sans peur et sans reproche." 
 He loved without passion, fought without 'fear, and ruled with- 
 out weakness or cruelty. Like the Satyr King in the Masque 
 of Oberon, he taught his people 
 
 " By the sweetness of his sway 
 
 And not by force." 
 
 But the intrigues of the court and the arms of the Saxons com- 
 pleted their work of ruin. Even the power of Merlin, the 
 magician, could not save the decaying kingdom. The North- 
 men reared their altars to Odin above the ruined palaces of the 
 "blameless king" and he became henceforth the hero of romance. 
 Launcelot and Guinevere, illustrating the bitter truth that, 
 ".our pleasant vices are made whips to scourge us," atone for 
 their sins by a life of penitence, and Arthur falls like a brave 
 and noble knight in battle. 
 
 The Britons, conquered by the Saxons, their king dead, their 
 nationality lost, had but one resource left by which they could 
 win renown. This was to create a mythical hero out of their 
 favorite king who should surpass in glory every other warrior 
 and knight. From this ambition sprung the popular tradition 
 that Arthur was not dead but had been removed to Fairyland 
 to be healed of his wounds. For them he still lived in the .happy 
 valley of Avilion whither the weeping queens had borne him in 
 their dusky barge : and as the years rolled by they cherished 
 the fond hope, expressed in the smooth lines of an English poet, 
 that he would return 
 
 " Once more in old heroic pride 
 His barbed courser to bestride, 
 i His knightly table to restore 
 
 And brave the tournaments of yore." 
 
THE LEGENDS OF KING ARTHUR. 147 
 
 Dunlop states from an authority of the twelfth century that if 
 any one in Britain should deny that Arthur would return he 
 would be stoned. All the places where the king and his brave 
 knights had fought and justed became invested with peculiar 
 charms ; and various floating legends sprung up that were after- 
 wards to be collected by the Norman poets. Such in part was 
 the orioin of the Arthurian romances that have been the delight 
 of dreamers old and young since the days of Malory. Their 
 half real half poetic character has made them the resort of poets 
 from Spenser down to Tennyson. The spirit of chivalry reached 
 its height in the Middle Ages, and lost its honor in ths vices of 
 the Knights of the Temple and of St. John. And when the 
 author of the Faery Queen took his silver lyre to sing of its fad- 
 ing glories in notes of unequalled sweetness he chose for his hero 
 the good king Arthur of British story — "his object being to 
 portray the image of a brave knight perfected in the twelve 
 private moral virtues." 
 
 The Morte D'Arthur of Malory shows the varied character of 
 these legends. They do not seem to be the work of a single 
 mind ; but as a thousand rills from hidden sources flow down 
 from the mountains of Switzerland to form her fairest lakes, so 
 the various traditions of the Welsh and Norman bards unite to 
 form the Arthurian romance. It is as if some grey-bearded story- 
 tellers had wandered over Britain and told their tales of love and 
 chivalry to willing maidens by the gates of enchanted castles,, 
 either for the love of their work, or for subsistence, as blind old 
 Homer sang his songs for daily bread. The great enchanter 
 Merhn seems to return and lead us back to the palmy days when 
 the bright sword of Arthur glistened in the sunlight by the 
 waters of the Usk and Guinevere flitted " a phantom of delight " 
 among the knights and ladies of her court. We wander through 
 a happy dreamland where, like Caliban in Prospero's enchanted 
 island, we hear 
 
 " Sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not, 
 And when we wake we cry to dream again." 
 
 With the simplicity of the Maud Muller of Wales, who still 
 bathes her white feet in the clear water that bubbles from 
 
148 SUSPIRIA. 
 
 Arthur's spring, we seem to see "through golden gates a king- 
 sitting in the midst of his court." As the modern versions of 
 Malory's edition take their places with the Idyls of the King 
 among our favorite books the shadowy forms of fiction seem to 
 cry,, like the people of the sleeper's dreams in Tennyson's Morte 
 D'Arthur, 
 
 •' Arthur is come again : he cannot die." 
 
 SCSPIKIA. 
 
 Life unnoticed floats away, 
 As the dew at dawn of day 
 
 On the lea ! 
 All its visions sad and strange, 
 And its hours are full of change 
 
 As the sea ! 
 
 Once I had a friend as dear, 
 As the loved in yonder sphere 
 
 Were when here. 
 But, with chilling, killing breath. 
 Swiftly wooed her stilly death 
 
 Stealing near ! 
 
 Now the sweetest flowers bloom 
 Brightly o'er the grassy tomb 
 
 Of my friend ; 
 And my heart is full of fear, 
 As an orphan's trembling tear, 
 ■ For her end. 
 
 Am I certain we shall greet, 
 Do I know that we shall meet 
 
 E'er again? 
 Oh ! forgive me, that above 
 I ne'er bade her place her love — 
 
 'Tis of men ! 
 
CONCERNING FLYAWAY's TOUE. 149 
 
 CONCEENING FLYAWAT'S TOUE. 
 
 "Why should we kick against the pricks when we can walk on roses? 
 Why should we be owls when we can be eagles ?" — Keats. 
 
 "It's the same old Newport," said Bayard, in his cynical way. 
 "The old sets — the old grooves ! Boston girls stiff as Calvinism, 
 and New York belles affecting Parisian nonchalance — stock- 
 jobbing papas, and young nobs with foppish switches. Society 
 implies the polka, and the future is bounded by the next hop." 
 
 I had drifted into Newport late in the season. September's 
 cool breath had blown away the froth of fashion. Fast horses 
 and fast men had disappeared from the Avenue. But Bayard 
 still lingered at the Ocean House to listen to the departing laugh 
 of each merry comrade as he went his way. 
 
 "Of course you must have your sneer," said I. "But tell 
 me, are any of our college friends here?" 
 
 "Yes, in the cottages ! Old Prof. Syntax and family — ^Fatima 
 sister to Charlie Crayon — Oarsman Hank — and O yes ! young 
 Flyaway, returned from his tour — the only sensation Newport 
 has known for a month." 
 
 "Not little Flyavray of the Eectory School?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " The soft little fellow who used to ornament the foot of the 
 form with new neck-ties and fancy tailoring — little Flyaway who 
 was plucked Freshman year?" 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 " So he has had a tour ?" 
 
 " He has been up and down the Continent. He has seen all 
 the sights and done all the pictures. He is blasee in all matters 
 of European travel. You remember that fat, dumpy portrait of 
 Mrs.Vandervleet's Knickerbocker grandmother, that hangs in the 
 Colonel's dining room? Well, Flyaway almost stared it out of 
 countenance the other night, and drawled out, ' How like Ru- 
 bens !' " 
 
 "I am too envious of his experience," I rejoined, "to laugh 
 at him. I shall meet him in much the same spirit" that poor 
 Arabs in desert villages greet the pilgrims who are returning 
 
150 CONCERNING FLYAWAY's TOUR. 
 
 from Mecca and the Prophet's tomb. But has he realized his 
 high privileges ? Does his conversation show that he has felt 
 vrhat he has seen ? Can you see in his eyes orange groves and 
 vineyards ? Can you hear in his voice the echoes of long lost 
 love songs, or the pathos of the Miserere? Does his manner 
 with women betray an acquaintance with Raphael's Madonnas ?" 
 
 "I'll tell you a story," said Bayard, drily. "It is from my 
 private edition of La Fontaine. Once upon a time Ixion was 
 invited to one of Jove's state dinners. The banquet was a mar- 
 vel of gastronomic art. There was gourmandise superlative, 
 confectioned by cooks who felt the poetry of their trade. Nectar- 
 ous tipple, the true vino cVoro was on tap. All the gods were 
 there. Ganymede filled his cup with divinest porridge, heroes 
 pledged him fair in creamy beakers, and the harmonies of the 
 Muses breathed upon his finer senses. But when Ixion returned 
 to the battle-cry of men, he could answer none of his neighbors' 
 questions concerning the table cVhote and the etiquette of the 
 Olympians, for all that he could remember of that heavenly 
 feast was the color and pattern of his napkin. 
 
 So, too, lotus eating has been too high diet for Flyaway. 
 Wandering luxuriously over Europe, he has seen what earnest 
 and poetic souls yearn to see and must die without seeing. But 
 so small has been the measure of his spiritual development that 
 he has entered upon no sphere of intellectual growth ; and so 
 he has returned, blind to the higher significance of Nature and 
 Art, remembering naught but baser fancies — the patterns and 
 figures in the fashion-plates." 
 
 My friend's cigar was out. " We must not expect too much," 
 he said, turning toward the parlor, " of a poor plucked Fresh- 
 man — of the Partial Course." 
 
 Now, perhaps, as Bayard suggested, I was hardly justified in 
 my disappointment at the results of Flyaway's Tour. I knew 
 well enough that he was no genius, and that education had only 
 fitted him to shake his heels adroitly in the ball-room, and to 
 wear the air of a figure in the fashion-plate. But what if nature 
 had dwarfed and education had dulled his sensibilities, had he 
 not enjoyed high privileges — the conditions of a complete self^ 
 development? Though Ixion was mortal, of the earth^ — earthy. 
 
CONCERNING FLYAWAY's TOUE. 151 
 
 could he feel the sense of near divinity and not awaken to larger 
 perceptions of gods and the godlike ? Upon the master heights 
 and among the inspired would he not become himself — and that 
 self a genius ? 
 
 Every man is responsible for any high opportunities which he 
 enjoys. That summer I was making a modest little trip. I had 
 deserted the weary vista of brick houses and sign-boards for the 
 White Hills and the Sea. Dwelling among flowers and birds 
 in the sweet companionship of woods and waves — sky and stars, 
 I had come to harmonize with Nature's moods, and to compre- 
 hend all the laro;e delio-ht of heaven. . But during; these s'ala- 
 days I. had the consciousness of responsibility. Coming into 
 contact with great mountains and the ocean — the grandest 
 emblems of divine power, I ought to feel a development of my 
 finer senses. My nature should be enlarged and sanctified, so 
 that when I returned to town my eye might reflect the clearness 
 of the sky, my voice might echo the sound of the sea. These 
 tones and visions of beauty should lie in my experience as sym- 
 bols of grandeur and sweetness, moulding my character, dwell- 
 ing as unuttered poetry in my soul to illumine every day of my 
 Ufe. All narrowness should fade out of my horizon forever. 
 Men would see that I had learned by heart the lesson of the 
 mountains, that above the grovelling flats of business should 
 rise the peaks of noble aims- — the lesson of the waves, that 
 underneath my intercourse with my fellow men should flow the 
 current of a broad and generous manhood. 
 
 But to get this emotion at its maximum we must make a pil- 
 grimage to the Old World. When the tourist comes to America' 
 we take him to Niagara, the Capitol, Mammoth Cave, and then 
 we have reached the end of our tether, unless our Yankee 
 instinct leads us to show up our institutions — our deaf and 
 dumb asylums, hospitals, schools, grain elevators and the like. 
 We have an advantage in America — space. There is no little- 
 ness in our scenery. Everything is large, boldly touched, mag- 
 nificent in outline. We have shoreless lakes, broad stretches of 
 flowering grass, and impenetrable forests. But vastness is not 
 beauty. Space suggests indirectly boundless resources, but it 
 implies directly monotony of detail. We have another ad van- 
 
152 CONCEENING FLYAWAY'S TOUR. 
 
 tage — wildness. The primitive wilderness still blooms even in 
 the vicinity of cities. But this wildness is unsympathetic. What 
 can half-cleared forests suggest but colonial roughness ? Poetry 
 comes long after pioneering. While the capabilities of our con- 
 tinent for the picturesque are latent, in Europe they are devel- 
 oped. There is no monotony of detail, for an old and complex 
 civilization has produced a rich variety. Every landscape is 
 refined by the delicately pencilled effects of art. Men in hap- 
 piest moods have tamed the earth to orderly forms of beauty. 
 Nature's simple labor of love combines with the artistic results 
 which natural beauty has- inspired. 
 
 Again, we have in America none of the charms which follow 
 long history. We have no quaint cities and customs, no ven- 
 erable ruins, no picturesque costumes, none of the associations 
 and suggestions which are possible in old and storied countries. 
 The future may invest our scenery with interest. Alas ! for the 
 nakedness of our newness, it is now only vast unimproved 
 extent. But the image of dead days, the mirage of romance 
 hovers over the Old World. At Tivoli we look upon the fields 
 which gladdened Horace's eyes, and quaff the vintage of kindly 
 harvests of the Aquitanian grape — the old Falernian which 
 stirred the poet's blood. Righi is an awful mountain, shining 
 cold in the moonlight, standing alone in solemn solitude. But 
 upon this mountain are spots of fame, patriotic and poetic. 
 Under its shadow are scenes of household song and heroic story. 
 It is the region of William Tell. At Burglen he was born ; at 
 Altorf he shot at the apple ; the rude chapel on Lake Lucerne 
 stands on the rock where he leaped ashore leaving Gessler to 
 drift away into the tempest. The dusk of historic distance steals 
 over these 'scenes, removing them into an ideal realm of romance. 
 It is something more than natural scenery which leads men to 
 brave sea-sickness and to patronize the Alps and the Rhine. 
 The river is romantic, but it does not wind more picturesquely 
 than the Hudson. The mountains are lofty, but not so very 
 stupendous. Art and History hallow the Old World by their 
 refining influences, making it consecrated ground. They are 
 watchful monitors, crowding back all baser fancies and awaken- 
 ing thoughts fit for such pure companionship. 
 
CONCEENING FLYAWAY's TOUE. 153 
 
 High privileges then had Flyaway enjoyed in his tour. Alas ! 
 He had never realized that he was responsible for them. He 
 merely went to have a little loafing on the Boulevards and the 
 Heidelburg terrace. He did the landscapes and pictures quite 
 conscious that he was honoring them with his presence, but 
 unconscious that they might possibly do him good. He rode 
 through Venice steadily as Parazaide, whatever sermons the 
 stones might preach. He was not startled by the Forum or the 
 Coliseum, for they recalled no triumphant times. He tramped 
 up and down cathedrals and ruined monasteries, but no sense of 
 veneration was awakened in him. He ascended the Jura with 
 a party of tourists, but they, poor enthusiasts, broke their morn- 
 ing nap and saw the sun rise on the Bernese Alps over the val- 
 ley of the Aar ; while Flyaway hours afterward, when the day 
 was old on the mountain tops, turned in liis lazy bed, gasped for 
 an eye-opener, and said, " Halloa ! Why, the sun's up !" He 
 saw the Alps, brilliant alway with snow, and it occurred to him 
 that they were somewhat nobbier than the White Hills — that 
 the fixed stars of the world had not melted the glaciers of the 
 Aar, nor lionized the Mt. Blanc into littleness — that the Alpine 
 hostelries were poor accommodations for a man who has called 
 for omelets and ragouts at the cafes. But he failed to catch the 
 thoughts of eternal peace which arose from those heaven up- 
 bearing summits, standmg there in the old silence, gilded by the 
 glow of countless summers — failed to understand that they 
 stood to educate by their calm and holy presence — failed to 
 study the visible poem and fix it deep in the substance of his 
 brain to be a possession of delight forever. Flyaway had a 
 formula for sight-seeing — something in this wise — " Leave inn, 
 drive to the lion, stop at the place of spirits and refresh, light 
 cigar, step out on the platform, gaze at the lion, look at watch, 
 and return to inn just in time for dinner." And so with his 
 heart whole, and his digestion perfect, taking rough and smooth 
 as they came, Flyaway had made his Tour. 
 
 Now I have no faith in men who rush up and down the con- 
 tinent with note-books in their hands. I have no faith in those 
 intellectual Round-heads who after sternly keeping graceless 
 schools in New England, go abroad to quote Childe Harold for 
 
154 CONCERNING FLYAWAY's TOUR. 
 
 the benefit of country papers. My faith in Murray's hand-books 
 is far from being orthodox. I can fully sympathize with the 
 sensitive tourist in " Guy Livingston," who, in his wanderings 
 over Europe, fell in with h-less Britons in mountains and dales, 
 and always with red covers in their hands ; so that at last the 
 sight of a guide-book had about the same effect upon him that a 
 red sash has upon an infuriated bull. The highest value of travel 
 is not the accumulation of facts bat the perception of their sig- 
 nificance. A man who sees in the Parthenon only a pUe of 
 broken marble, or in the Alhambra only red and white plaster, 
 need not have exposed himself to the discomforts of a sea voyage 
 and foreign diet. There are good prints of them, engraved with 
 restored proportions, which will make travelling and thinking 
 easy. We love Rome for what it is to us — not for what it is 
 in itself. When we are steeped in her spirit, then we have seen 
 Rome. We may have read in books of travel descriptions of St. 
 Peter's, but we have taken words for things — measurements for 
 sentiments. We have a vague conception of an architectural 
 vastness under whose shadow are statues and paintings, and 
 where the Miserere is sung in Holy Week. But when we have 
 hastened through the long gallery of the Vatican to see the 
 Apollo or the Transfiguration, the reality blots out the pictures 
 we have seen in books, casts and engravings vanish from the 
 memory, St. Peter's becomes a thought in our mind. It is not 
 of the least importance to us that the golden ball is four hun- 
 dred and thirty feet from the pavement. "It is not the sublime 
 statues," says one, "the prophetic pictures, the historic land- 
 scapes which one sees in Europe which are permanently valua- 
 ble. It is the breadth which they give to the experience, the 
 more reasonable faith which they inspire in human genius, the 
 dreamy distances of thought with which they surround life." 
 Nor is the travelled man responsible only to himself. He should 
 riot merely sentimentalize over the forms of beauty which he sees' 
 in the Old World with a lazy regret that he will not find them 
 in the New. He should realize that it is his duty to reproduce 
 in his own life, and in that of his countrymen, as much of that 
 beauty as he can. A passion for poetry, music and art should 
 not be substituted for the plain duty of patriotism. He must 
 
CONCERNING FLYAAVAY'S TOUR. 155 
 
 \ 
 
 be the channel of communicating the best influences of the Old 
 World to the New. He must awaken in his countrymen a love 
 for that which is physically and morally beautiful — he must 
 instruct them as to the best type which has been reasoned out in 
 cycles of clumsy development, so that they, accepting it as a 
 heritage, may develop theu- world after it. 
 
 But Flyaway, unconscious of the responsibility of a travelled 
 man to self or country, had had his little loafing on the Boule- 
 vards, and now returned with the air of a figure in the fashion 
 plate. The higher forms of beauty which he had seen had devel- 
 oped in him no inner beauty of action and demeanor — no refine- 
 ment or gentler courtesy. Monte Eosa and sunny Milan, the 
 Amphitheatre of Nismes, and the Pont du Gart he had forgot- 
 ten, but not his coflee and violets at the cafe Done or the Pitti 
 Palace Ball. The glad Velino no longer shone with remem- 
 bered lustre, but the flirtation with the dark eyed Italian girl 
 who stole to his side to listen to his gallantries, how fresh was 
 this in his memory ! St. Goar, Faulhorn, the Grindenwald — 
 " O ! they are in Switzerland somewhere !" says Flyaway, " but 
 that was capital beer at Frankfort !" " Did you find Venice fas- 
 cinating, as you floated homeward from the Lido?" "Bad beds, 
 and the fleas quite balanced the fascination." "You saw Naples, 
 Flyaway ?" " O yes ! I bought three or four scarfs there — very 
 stylish patterns — nothing like them this season at Newport!" 
 " You ascended Mt. Blanc ?" " Yes ! And there was a bigoted 
 Englishman with us who would have his black tea and bottled 
 ale on the summit ! Bottled ale when there was champagne of 
 Rheims or Epernay in the hampers !" " Did you see Correggio's 
 Holy Family ?" " No ! I was at Dresden only one day — and 
 there was a real nice English fellow there — we played ecarte 
 all day !" O Ixion, Ixion ! Lotus eating among the immortals 
 was too high diet for tuy palate ! Thou rememberest naught but 
 the pattern of thy napkin ! 
 
 But Flyaway was troubled with no sentimental regrets for 
 ruined opportunities. No phantoms of unachieved success 
 haunted him at Newport. It was quite as Bayard said, " Fly- 
 away was the sensation !" His return to Newport had been a 
 triumph as such things go. I had acquired a slight knowledge 
 
156 AT hunt's mill. 
 
 of Parisian haberdashery at Saratoga, but the visions of coats 
 and pants there seen had barely educated me for the higher pos- 
 sibilities of Flya way's dress. He cultivated nonchalance with 
 the ladies. He manifested the sublime indifference of one, who 
 had exhausted all kinds of experience. It was not his fault that 
 he had seen a great deal of the world ! " Having learned all 
 there is worth knowing in Europe," said Flyaway, " I have come 
 back to America to devote myself entirely to society." His 
 notion of his duty to society was to dance and make calls. 
 
 One day during my stay in Newport, I was rather sarcastic 
 with Flyaway. According to Bayard not even old acquaintance 
 justified my severe irony. Flyaway turned upon me savagely. 
 " Don't bore me with your American energy ! What has your 
 high and poetic manner of life to do with society and Wall 
 street?" 
 
 O life is the best thing we can possibly make of it ! If mor- 
 tal can grasp the thoughts of the Immortal he will be promoted 
 to become himself — he will achieve his destiny. But if he is 
 false to the light that is in him, and forgets his immortality, he 
 will crawl through life a mere earth worm, dirt to dirt, until at 
 last he is dust to dust. 
 
 AT HINT'S MILL. 
 
 Bright beams from rising moon shine through the trees, 
 
 And fall upon the waters as they play. 
 The golden clouds fast darkening in the west, 
 
 Mark where has sunk to rest the god of day. 
 
 The evening shadows come now swiftly on ; 
 
 As they advance the moon appears more bright ; 
 Nature grows beauteous 'neath her silver rays, 
 
 The stars appear, gems to adorn the night. 
 
 How glorious to behold a scene like this ! 
 
 We stand on the rude crossing o'er the stream : 
 Above us moon and stars and rustling trees. 
 
 Beneath our feet the rippling waters gleam. 
 
 that I might be with thee more, loved spot, 
 Hallowed to me by memories most dear ! 
 
 To wander 'neath thy trees of grateful shade, 
 The dashing of thy waters oft to hear. • 
 
THE HEEOIC DAYS OF BYEON. 157 
 
 THE HEEOIC DAYS OF BTRON. 
 
 In the history of genius, of its strength and its weakness, 
 perhaps no character ever roused more public attention than 
 that of Lord Byron. He entered the world of poetry, as 
 Chatham did that of or9,tory, scarcely heard of in the lists until 
 he .had obtained the honors of the triumph. As the resentment 
 of Walpole elicited from the young statesman the first flashes of 
 an eloquence that burned with inextinguishable brightness to the 
 last hours of his life, so did the rude repulse given to the youth- 
 ful aspirations of the noble bard, discover all the wonderful 
 resources of his intellect, and place at once upon his brow the 
 garland for which other men of genius have toiled long, and 
 gained late. When the rod of the critic struck, the fountain 
 first gushed forth, and all subsequent blows but forced out the 
 stream stronger and clearer. 
 
 At twenty-four he published Childe Harold. In this the 
 unfettered genius of the poet, in the guise of a pilgrim, traversed 
 the fairest portions of Europe. He roamed through nature's 
 solitudes and through realms of art, proud even in their ruins. 
 Wherever a forest frowned, or a temple glittered, there he was 
 privileged to bend his flight. He suddenly starts up from his 
 solitary dream at the foot of Parnassus, 
 
 " Soaring snow clad through its native sky, 
 In the wild pomp of mountain majesty," 
 
 and descends at once into the tumult of peopled, or the silence 
 of deserted cities. Now his genius walked amid the "Eternal 
 Alps," and around their base and summits cast a robe of unfad- 
 ing grandeur. Now it sailed on the " deep and dark blue ocean," 
 and sang its beauty and majesty in immortal strains. He list- 
 ened to the distant roar of cannon, breaking upon the gayety of 
 the young and beautiful in the festive halls at Brussels, where 
 
 " Chasing the glowing hours with flying feet, 
 Soft eyes looked love to eyes that spake again," 
 
 and in lines which once read are never forgotten, described 
 the silence and suspense, the " swift hurrying to and fro," the 
 
158 THE HEROIC DAYS OF BYRON. 
 
 "battle's magnificently stern array," the common grave where 
 
 lay, 
 
 " heaped and pent, 
 
 Rider and horse, — friend, foe, — in one red burial blent." 
 
 The enthusiastic burst of public applause at the reception of 
 this poem was as instantaneous, as it has since proved deep and 
 lasting. It placed its gifted author upon a high pinnacle of 
 poetic fame. He was almost stifled by caresses. He became 
 the pride of the drawing room and the boast of the nation. Even 
 in his greatest excesses were seen only the flash and outgrowth 
 of the same fiery mind which glowed in his poetry. Society 
 attributing all to the youth, rank and genius of her petted child, 
 forgave them. 
 
 Amid this burst of popular glory, Byron married Lady Mill- 
 bank. The marriage was unhappy. They lived in the most 
 fashionable of London society for thirteen months, then separa- 
 ted forever. The youthful mourner concealed her sorrow from 
 the world, and the household sanctuary retained its holiness, if 
 it lost its gladness. For the unhappy poet other misfortunes 
 were in store. Society, capricious alike in its fondness and its 
 indignation, frowned upon him, and helped to turn his sweetest 
 nectar of delight into poison. The reaction was terrible. He 
 had been caressed with an admiration almost idolatrous. He 
 was hated with a fury well nigh relentless. The press teemed 
 with execrations against him. The theatres hissed him. The 
 atmosphere breathed slander against him. The fame which the 
 toilsome efforts of four years of public life had acquired, was 
 buried in the obloquy of S, few weeks. 
 
 To stem the torrent was hopeless. The unhappy poet left his 
 native land forever. Across the channel, up the Rhine, along 
 the Mediterranean, the thousand tongues of rumor preceded him. 
 In Switzerland, in the shadow of the Alps and by the blue 
 depths of the lakes, he was pursued and breathed upon by the 
 blight. He crossed the mountains, but it was the same. He 
 went a little farther, and like a stag at bay who betakes himself 
 to the waters, he settled by the waves of the Adriatic. Time 
 passed. The voices of slander gradually waxed fainter and 
 fainter, and died away. His poetry became more popular than 
 
THE HEEOIC DAYS OF BYRON. 159 
 
 ever, its exquisite complaints moved to tears thousands who had 
 never seen his face, the national sympathy longed to invite back 
 the old favorite, whom its rash clamors had driven into exile. 
 The vessel that bore Lord Byron from the shores of England, 
 carried him into a dark, perilous and appalHng future. Yet 
 chano;e of scene, althouo;h it never g-ave back to his mind its 
 native elasticity, enabled it to escape unmitigated despondency, 
 and his genius soon rose to conceptions far higher than ever 
 before. His travels were extensive. He stood on the Wengen 
 Alp, and viewed with poetic eye the sea of mountains around 
 him, and listened to the music of the crashing avalanche. He 
 stopped where, rising with her " tiara of bright towers " above 
 the waves, 
 
 " Venice sat in state, throned in her hundred isles," 
 
 and imparted new life to her dying glories by his impassioned 
 song. Greece especially, with its fair skies, its deathless past 
 and mournful present, its majestic ruins, was congenial to his 
 musing and desponding thoughts. But in all these, the recol- 
 lections of home bitterness preyed upon him, and neither the 
 song of the mountain shepherd, the graceful movements of his 
 Venetian gondola, the brimming bowl of pleasure, nor, more 
 than all these, the wearing touch of time, could remove for one 
 moment the weight upon his heart. While he was yet in the 
 prime of years, and the mighty strain of his choral song was 
 vibrating through the world, the garden of his life had become 
 a desert, without a flower and without a stream. His health 
 failed. His mind seemed about to relinquish the empire it had 
 exercised over his generation. He seemed about to die. 
 
 From this wretched condition he was roused by an event 
 which agitated all Christendom, and cast a glorious though mel- 
 ancholy lustre over the last scenes of his life. For more than 
 nineteen hundred years, a nation, once the glory of the world, 
 had been bowed under a cruel yoke. The valor which had won 
 the great " battle of human civilization," which at Thermopylae 
 had beaten back the proud Xerxes, with his two million Per- 
 sians, was expiring in lingering death throes among the chival- 
 ric but unlettered Klephts. Spartan heroism, Athenian free- 
 
160 THE HEROIC DAYS OF BYHON. 
 
 dom and Macedonian impetuosity had degenerated, until the 
 land had become the passive subject of Turkish tyranny. Sud- 
 denly, goaded by a sense of wrong and inspired by the illustri- 
 ous memories of the past, this enslaved people had burst from 
 the slumber of ages, and with something of the sublime energy 
 of their fathers, had risen upon their oppressors. 
 
 The tyrants of Europe frowned for eight years upon this 
 attempt of liberty to rally in her ancient home. But Byron 
 linked his fate with the revolution in its earliest and darkest 
 stages. Next to England, he loved Greece. It was amidst her 
 ruins and desolated valleys his genius had been first developed. 
 Around them clustered many of those associations, which, "soft 
 as the memory of buried love," cling to the scenes that have first 
 stimulated dormant genius. The rousing in this land of " blue 
 Olympus," of a spirit such as he had imaged forth in his song, 
 
 " many dream withal that hour is nigh, 
 
 That gives them back their father's heritage," &c., 
 
 stirred his deepest feelings. It awoke him from the delusions 
 of his passions, infused new life to his exhausted body and im- 
 parted a fierce enthusiasm to his already ardent sympathies. He 
 longed to share in the present triumphs and future progress of 
 liberty, on those shores where he had already gathered for im- 
 mortality such memorials. "A¥hat signifies self," said he, "if a 
 single spark of that which is worthy of her past can be be- 
 queathed to her future." And so, looking upon himself as at 
 least one of the many waves that must break and die upon the 
 shore, before the tide they help to advance can reach its full 
 mark, he, like Lafayette, embarked his fortunes and his life in 
 the sacred cause ; unlike Lafayette, he sacrificed both. Byron 
 arrived at Missilonghi on the 5th of January, 1824. He was 
 received with enthusiastic demonstrations of joy. The shore 
 was lined by thousands of ardent Greeks, the fleets and forts 
 fired salutes as he passed, and Prince Mavrocordato, at the head 
 of the army and civil authorities, met him on landing, and 
 amidst the shouts of the multitude and the discharge of cannon, 
 accompanied him to the house prepared for his reception. Ro- 
 mantic indeed as was Byron's sacrifice to the cause of Greece, 
 
THE HEROIC DAYS OF BYEON. 161 
 
 there was in his attempts to serve her, not a tinge of the specu- 
 lative or selfish. His first object was to free her from her 
 tyrants. He saw that slavery was the great bar to knowledge, 
 and must be broken before light could dawn, and that therefore 
 the work of the sword must precede that of the pen, and "camps 
 be the first schools of freemen." To this end he employed his 
 ample income without stint in the public service, he sought to 
 reconcile the native chieftains to each other, and to mitigate the 
 horrors of warfare by infusing into it the spirit of Christian 
 humanity. His first two acts were, to recommend unity, and to 
 take into his private pay a brigade of native soldiers. In the 
 glorious cause he had espoused, his whole soul was engaged. 
 From earliest youth he had been nourished in the lap of luxury, 
 but now in the fens and forests of Etolia, like some old general 
 of Rome, he shared the privations of the meanest soldier. His 
 conduct was illustrious throughout, showing ever the same cool- 
 ness, sound sense and generosity. He became the idol of the 
 nation and the chief hope of its success. Around him as a 
 centre all the discordant elements were fast rallying, he had 
 secured a large foreign loan, he had attracted to the cause the 
 eyes and sympathies of all Europe, he had disciplined the army 
 and increased the navy, he had unsheathed his sword and point- 
 ing to Lepanto, given the order to advance, when — death laid his 
 rude hand upon him, and when life was sweetest and hope was 
 brightest, the most splendid genius of the nineteenth century 
 died. 
 
 Byron had a strange presentiment that he would die in Greece. 
 The concluding lines of the poem written on his last birthday, 
 were ominous of his approaching fate. 
 
 " Seek out — less often sought than found — 
 A soldier's grave, for thee the best; 
 Then look around and choose thy ground, 
 And take thy rest," 
 
 He marked its approach as every rush of the angry tide rose 
 nearer and nearer, but he could not quit Greece while his pres- 
 ence was so essential. He felt there was at stake a cause worth 
 millions such lives as his, and that while he could stand, he must 
 stand by the cause. Said he, " Die I must. I feel it. My 
 
162 THE HEROIC DAYS OF BYRON. 
 
 wealth, my abilities I have devoted to the cause of Greece, and 
 now I give her my life." Yes ! Byron, who had aided her army 
 with his gold, her Congress with his counsels, who had given 
 her warriors a lesson of forbearance, and by his beautiful exam- 
 ple taught the faithless moslem to be merciful, was now on the 
 altar of her liberty, to oifer up his Hfe. 
 
 Death never presented a sadder scene. No wife to look upon 
 him, no daughter to shed a tear by his side. No loved friends 
 to catch his dying words, no priest to point the departing soul 
 to its God. But a stranger among strangers, he died for the 
 cause he had so nobly served. Two thoughts constantly occu- 
 pied his mind, Ada and Greece. The broken complaints he 
 uttered, lamenting to die a stranger to the sole daughter of his 
 affections and far from her embrace, showed the deep tenderness 
 of his paternal heart. One thing alone would dry the tears he 
 abundantly shed when pronouncing Ada's name, the glory of 
 dying for Greece. In the agony of death, when the veil of eter- 
 nity is rent to him who stands on the borders of mortal and im- 
 mortal life, when all the world appeared but a speck in the great 
 works of Divine Omnipotence, — in that awful hour his parting 
 look, his last adieu, was to Greece and to Ada. Then, upon 
 him who had electrified the world, and on whom but now the 
 hopes of a nation centered, the silence of death settled. Thus 
 died Byron, in his thirty-seventh year, in the rich summer of his 
 life and song, and with a reputation more likely to increase than 
 diminish. The bright hopes of Grecian liberty vanished like a 
 beautiful dream, all Europe was draped in mourning for him, 
 and the wild thunder storm which broke over Missilonghi at the 
 moment of his death, sounded his fitting dirge. It was Easter 
 morning, but the sweet salutation " Christ is arisen," died away 
 half pronounced upon the lips of the thousands who bathed his 
 funeral couch with their tears. Greece, as a symbol of his love 
 retained the urn that contained his heart, but rendered up his 
 body, crowned with her gratitude and bedewed with her tears, 
 to his native land. Hellas surrendered her martyr, England 
 received her poet. The nation that eight years before had driven 
 Byron into exile, now greeted his lifeless clay with profoundest 
 mourning. Magnificent funeral honors were paid to his mem- 
 
THE HEROIC DAYS OF BYEON. 163 
 
 ory, and his remains interred in the vault of his ancestors. 
 Years after,. Ada -learned the history of the father of whose love 
 she had been so cruelly deprived. Afar across the valleys of 
 time and through the frozen vapors of death, her love, warm 
 and fresh in the infancy of its gushing purity, went out to him. 
 The daughter of Byron was inconsolable. She waned, — pined 
 away, — and died. And now, separated during life, but joined 
 in death, Father and Daughter lie side by side in the village 
 church of Hucknall. 
 
 " So ends Childe his last pilgrimage ! 
 Upon the shores of Greece he stood, and cried 
 Liberty ! And those shores, from age to age 
 Renowned, and Sparta's woods and rocks replied 
 Liberty ! But a spectre, at his side, 
 Stood mocking ; — and its dart uplifting high. 
 Smote him; — he sank to earth in life's fair pride, 
 Sparta ! thy rocks then heard another cry, 
 And old Ilissus sigh'd, die, generous exile, die !" 
 
164 THE DIET OF THE ROMANS. 
 
 THE DIET OF THE ROMANS 
 
 Those who admire the intellectual greatness of the classic 
 authors of Roman literature, and especially those who would 
 emulate that greatness, are often inquisitive to know if there was 
 anything peculiar in their regimen, which, combined with their 
 mental and corporeal discipline, contributed to their pre-emi- 
 nence. 
 
 It is now a well known fact in Natural History, that the 
 instruments of mastication and the gastric juice of some men, 
 will operate better on some articles of food than on others. This 
 is true of nations as well as of individuals. 
 
 Perhaps no nation, as a whole, ever manifested a greater pre- 
 ference to any one item of food, than did the old veterans of 
 Komulus' line. They had two meals per day ; both of which, 
 as we shall attempt to prove, consisted of beans. To this ali- 
 ment do we trace the origin of those muscular powers which 
 distinguished them in the triumphant field, which gave energy 
 to the swelling accents of their majestic eloquence, brilliancy to 
 their imaginations, and polish to their manners. 
 
 To establish our position, we shall select a few passages from 
 celebrated authors. It is recorded of their immortal progenitor, 
 ^^Illehene fecit,''^ he raised beans. It may not be improper 
 here to remark, that the word " bene" in the original, is not 
 varied on account of gender, number or case. " Villa bene oedi- 
 Jicata,'" a country bean farm under a high state of cultivation. 
 In the most flourishing periods of the republic, nothing was more 
 reputable than for gentlemen of distinction to have a " villa 
 bene," whither they frequently resorted to spend the summer 
 months. ^^Civitas sere bene non moratur" said Cato, who 
 was as celebrated for his political sagacity as for his inflexible 
 justice. He well knew that beans were the s^V^e qua non of the 
 Commonwealth. 
 
 ^'^ Bene mane" beans for breakfast, exclaimed Cicero one 
 morning, as he mounted the rostrum. " lo bene trinnnjphe" let 
 beans triumph, responded the multitude. Again he said, " bene 
 multi." This phrase is rather ambiguous. It means either a multi- 
 
THE DIET or THE ROMANS. 165 
 
 tude of beans at a meal, or that that season was remarkable for 
 them. The most approved commentators that I have consulted, 
 favor the second interpretation ; but I am disinclined to agree with 
 them. For had it signified a great crop of beans, it would have 
 been expressed thus : " u^stas bene multas" according to 
 Ovid. Besides, it would transgress a statute of Campbell, (Lib. 
 H.) w^hich decrees, "that when one word or phrase has gained 
 the ascendancy, no other shall intrude." 
 
 We find that this same illustrious orator did not think it be- 
 neath his dignity, to write a treatise on agriculture, entitled, 
 ^^LitercB bene longce" This long treatise on the science of 
 raising beans, was lost till the excavations of Herculaneum. 
 Perhaps this discovery will enable the Italians to regain their 
 pristine glory. 
 
 '^^Bene valere^'' beans good for health, said Hippocrates. "Z)^^ 
 amaw^ 6ewe," the gods love beans. ^^ Dii conse7'unt bene" ihe 
 'gods sow beans, referring probably to those that grow spontan- 
 eously. " Vivere bene et fortuyiate" to live on beans and grow 
 fat. 
 
 Again, there are a few English words in common use, derived 
 from the Latin, and are similar in signification. Thus, "bene- 
 factor" is derived from "6e72.e" and ^^facio," and originally sig- 
 nified a bean-raiser ; but as bean-raisers were the most useful 
 men in the State, the word took a metaphorical sense, and now 
 signifies one that does a kindness. We might instance many 
 more, but one must suffice. "Benevolent," derived from "6ewe" 
 and ^^ volo," signifies one who wishes well to beans. 
 
 Thus we have proved, ad demonstrandiim, that beans were 
 the principal article of food — were essential to the prosperity of 
 the Republic — were an aliment to genius — and that the cultiva- 
 tion of them was considered honorable by men and gods. To 
 conclude, we will use the last pathetic words of a nobleman, who 
 had lived on beans all his days, ^^Bene, bene, eternum valete, 
 O beans, beans, a long farewell." 
 
166 BEAU BEUMMELL. 
 
 BEAU BRUMMELL. 
 
 Beauism was dying out, the day of the old school dandies was 
 drawing to a close, when George Brummell, the subject of the 
 present sketch, appeared, as its last and most brilliant represen- 
 tative. He was born in London in June, 1778. The topic of 
 his parentage was always to him an unpleasant one. He avoided 
 it as systematically, as the smuggler does the revenue cutter, the 
 secret whisky vender the officer of the law. It seemed to him 
 a terrible dispensation of Providence, that his grandfather should 
 have been a confectioner. But as it could not be helped, he 
 shunned the subject, and never mentioned it to ears polite. His 
 father, however, left him a good property of forty thousand 
 pounds, which, in this world of ours, is next to a famous pedi- 
 gree. 
 
 He entered Eton at the age of twelve. Here he began to dis- 
 play his talents, not indeed in poring over the accumulated musty 
 lore of ages, but in dress. Dandyism was to him a second 
 nature. One says of him, " that he was a good dresser by the 
 force of original genius ; a first-rate tyer of cravats on the in- 
 voluntary principle." From his magnificence he soon acquired 
 the sobriquet of Buck Brummell. Here too he began to exhibit 
 that ready wit, which, together with his taste in dress, was to 
 be his stepping-stone in the " art of rising." One day, as he 
 was walking along the banks of the Thames, he came upon a 
 party of students, who were about to give an obnoxious barge- 
 man a cold bath in the stream. Brummell said to them, "My 
 good fellows, don't throw him into the river ; for, as the man is 
 in a high state of perspiration, it amounts to a certainty that he 
 will catch cold." The boys were overcome by the ludicrousness 
 of the idea, and let the poor fellow run for his life. 
 
 From Eton he passed to Oriel. Here he commenced that 
 system of " cutting," for which he became so famous in after 
 life. He cut an old Eton acquaintance, because he had entered 
 at an inferior college, and discontinued calling on another, be- 
 cause he invited him to meet two students, who roomed in a 
 hall, which he did not deem aristocratic. In his studies he was 
 moderately successful, producing the second best poem for the 
 
BEAU BEUMMELL. 167 
 
 Newdigate prize. But he cared less for this, than to have the 
 best fitting coat in college. He treated college laws with con- 
 tempt, always ordering his horse at hall time, and playing prac- 
 tical jokes on the proctors, to the wonder and amusement of his 
 fellows. 
 
 But he was soon to enter upon a new field of action. In 1794 
 he was appointed to a cornetcy by the Prince of Wales, who had 
 noticed his fine appearance, during a visit at Eton, and desired 
 to have the handsomest and wittiest man of the time in his regi- 
 ment. But Brummell was too idle to make a good officer. 
 Unacquainted with the men of his troop, and always late at pa- 
 rade, he had a peculiar way of finding them, and his place. 
 There was one of the men who had a large blue tinged nose. 
 Coming upon the field, he would ride along until he saw the 
 nose ; then, drawing up by its side, he felt secure. But one 
 day the nose was changed to another troop. Brummell coming 
 up late, as usual, reined up by his old friend. " Mr. Brum- 
 mell," cried the colonel, "you are in the wrong troop." "No, 
 no !" said Brummell, looking with confidence upon the blue nose 
 by his side, and adding in a low tone — " I know better than that, 
 a pretty thing, indeed, if I did not know my own troop !" At 
 the end of two years, he was appointed captain, by favor of the 
 Prince. But he was tired of military life. He longed for other 
 scenes. One morning he waited upon the Prince, and said — 
 "Thefixct is, your royal highness, I have heard that we are 
 ordered to Manchester, that dirty manufacturing town. Now 
 you must be aware how disagreeable this would be to me ,• I 
 really could not go. Think! Manchester! Besides, you would 
 not be there, I have, therefore, with your permission, determined 
 to sell out." "Oh, by all means, Brummell !" said the Prince, 
 "do as*you please." So he sold out and deprived himself of a 
 good position, and left one of the most showy professions. 
 
 He now began his career as a bachelor gentleman. He rent- 
 ed a house in Chesterfield street, May Fair ; gave elegant little 
 dinners, where the Prince was often a guest ; and established 
 himself as a refined voluptuary. He was on intimate terms with 
 the chief nobility, and during the summer months spent a large 
 portion of his time at their country residences. His person was 
 
168 BEAU BRUMMELL. 
 
 well fitted to make him the most elegant man of his time. His 
 figure was graceful and attractive. His countenance, though 
 not handsome, was intelligent. His conversation was witty and 
 entertaining. His dress was admirable. In fine, nothing was 
 lacking, to cause him to receive a hearty reception into the best 
 society. 
 
 Brummell's style in dress was simplicity itself. Would that 
 the dandies of the present day might study Brummellism in this 
 matter ! Then would they throw aside their ridiculous and fini- 
 cal adornments. Then should we have reason to admire their 
 taste. The Beau's morning dress was simply a blue coat, buff 
 colored waistcoat, and dark pants. In the evening he appeared 
 in a blue coat, white waistcoat and black pants, closely fitting, 
 and buttoning tight to the ankle, striped silk stockings and an 
 opera hat. Imagine, if you can, oh modern wielder of the 
 scissors, a more neat and tasteful dress. No gaudy colors ! no 
 jewelry ! and, my dear modern exquisite, listen to the words of 
 Brummell, " No perfumes !" 
 
 Brummell's impertinent witticisms were a source of great 
 amusement to those who were not their subjects, but a terror to 
 all others. "Do you see that gentleman near the door?" said a 
 lady of rank to her daughter, who was making her first appear- 
 ance at Almack's, " Yes. Who is he?" " A person who will 
 probably come and speak to us ; aiid if he enters into conversa- 
 tion, be careful to give him a favorable impression of you, for 
 he is the celebrated Mr. Brummell." All dreaded his criticism. 
 At a great dinner, the champagne did not suit him. The serv- 
 ant offered to fill his glass a second time. "No, thank you," 
 said he, "I don't drink cider." The following anecdote is per- 
 haps known to most of our readers. " Where were you yester- 
 day?" said an acquaintance jto him. "I think," said he, "I dined 
 in the city." "What, you dined in the city?" "Yes, the man 
 wished me to bring him into notice, and I desired him to give a 
 dinner, to which I invited Alvanley, Mills, Pierrepont, and 
 some others." "All went off well, of course?" inquired the 
 friend, "Oh, yes ! perfectly, except one nial-a-propos ; the fel- 
 low who gave the dinner had actually the assurance to seat him- 
 self at the table !" Dining at the house of a wealthy but young 
 
BEAU BRUMMELL. 169 
 
 member of society, he asked the loan of his carriage to take him 
 to Lady Jersey's that evening. "I am going there," said his 
 host, " and will be happy to take you." " Still there is a diffi- 
 culty," said Brummell, in his most insinuating tone, " You do 
 not mean to get up behind, that would not be quite right in 
 your own carriage ; and yet, how would it do for me to be seen 
 in the same carriage with you ?" Brummell was as critical about 
 the dress and appearance of others, as he was elegant in his own. 
 He objected to country gentlemen being admitted at Watier's, 
 on the ground " that their boots always smelled of the stable and 
 bad blacking." The Duke of Bedford having asked him what 
 he thought of his new coat, " Turn around," said the Beau. After 
 viewing the coat in front and rear, and gently stroking the lapel, 
 he asked in his most pathetic tone, " Bedford, do you call this 
 thing a coat?" Some one of his comrades at White's told him, 
 "Brummell, your brother is in town. Is he not coming here?" 
 "Yes," was the reply, "in a day or two; but I have recom- 
 mended him to walk the bach streets till his new clothes come 
 home." Once, a caller was "boring" him with an account of a 
 recent trip in the north of England, and asked which of the 
 lakes he preferred, "I cannot possibly remember," was the reply ; 
 "they are a great way from St. James street, and I don't think 
 they are spoken of in the clubs." The "bore" urged the ques- 
 tion. "Robinson," said the Beau, turning in evident distress to 
 his valet, " Eobinson, pray tell this gentleman which of the lakes 
 I preferred!" "Windermere, sir, I think it was." "Well," 
 added Brummell, "probably you are in the right, Robinson. It 
 might have been. Pray, sir, will Windermere do?" The "hit" 
 of the "fat friend" is somewhat trite, but it is, perhaps, the best 
 illustration of the Beau's extreme impudence. The Prince had 
 had a falling out with him, and seeing him on the street, arm- 
 in-arm with a nobleman, determined to give him a decided "cut." 
 Approaching the pair, he entered into conversation with the 
 nobleman, not appearing to notice Brummell. But just as the 
 Prince turned away, the Beau asked his companion, in a tone 
 sufficiently loud to be heard by the Prince, " Pray, who is your 
 fat friend ?" Nothing could have been more exasperating to his 
 highness — nothing could have cut him nearer to the quick. 
 
170 BEAU BRUMMELL. 
 
 Brummell was a great "flirt." His heart was as fickle as that 
 of any modern "swell." He never married; but, once, he en- 
 tered into an elopement with a young lady of high rank. They 
 were, however, overtaken, and brought back. The affair was 
 the talk of the clubs, but Brummell turned it off by saying : 
 " On the whole, I consider that I have reason to congratulate 
 myself; I lately heard from her favorite maid, that her ladyship 
 had been seen — to drink heer!" 
 
 At this time gaming was fashionable in England. Fortunes 
 were lost and won at cards. For some years the Beau was for- 
 tunate in his play. But after a time the tide turned against 
 him, and he was obliged to leave England to escape his numer- 
 ous creditors. He lived for many years in Calais. Here he 
 passed a life of comfort and ease, though it must have been, to 
 him, dull and unpleasant, after his luxurious living among the 
 nobility of England. He left Calais as much in debt as when 
 he quitted his native land. The rest of his life he passed in the 
 town of Caen, still keeping up his extravagant style of living, 
 as long as he could find any one so foolish as to lend or rather 
 give him money. At length his resources failed, and harrassed 
 by his creditors, and weighed down by trouble, he lost the use 
 of his mind. The once witty, talented, stylish Beau was now 
 nothing but a drivelling, slovenly idiot. ,.He passed the last 
 days of his miserable existence in a lunatic 'asylum, and died at 
 the age of sixty-two. 
 
 Thus lived and thus perished a man who, gifted with great 
 natural abilities, had abused them, who had thrown away bril- 
 liant opportunities for attaining true greatness, that he might be 
 the butter-fly of the hour, the last and greatest of the famous 
 beaux of England. 
 
ELEMENT OF BEAUTY IN HELLENIC CULTURE. 171 
 
 THE ELEMENT OF BEAUTY IN HELLENIC CTLTUEE. 
 
 Like a radiant spot in the dense gloom of ages shines the era 
 of Greek culture. In it was centered all the skill, learning and 
 wisdom which the ancient world was able to produce. Highly 
 intellectual, it was also chastened and beautified by a taste of 
 a delicacy and a refinement such as the world has never since 
 seen. Its principal characteristic was the element of beauty. 
 The Greek mind was in truth the home of the living spirit of 
 beauty, which floated from thence over the outward world invest- 
 ing universal nature with an ideal loveliness ; and nature in 
 return fostered and encouraged this national instinct. Skies of 
 Italian purity and brightness, enchanting sunsets, landscapes of 
 the most exquisite beaaty were continually before their eyes, 
 stimulating every moral and physical power to the greatest 
 activity. Thus they became gifted as by inspiration, and Greece 
 became the birthplace of taste, the chosen sanctuary of all that 
 is beautiful in nature and art. 
 
 Their attention was early directed to the'human countenance 
 and form, and they perceived that when rightly developed, it 
 would yield a beauty more glorious than any of the wild loveli- 
 ness which surrounded them. To obtain this, at whatever price, 
 became at once their desire and aim, and what the genial influ- 
 ence of the climate and the favorable eflect of the clothing failed 
 to produce, was developed by Hellenic education. The training 
 began with the nurse, and was continued through every stage of 
 childhood and adolesence. Careftil watch was kept over the 
 morals and manners of youth. The maturity of the sexes was 
 required before permission was given to contract marriage. 
 Training which gave freedom, elasticity and hardiness to the 
 body was employed, and room afforded for the development and 
 exercise of every power whether intellectual or corporal. Temp- 
 erance was their rule. No unwholesome food, fasting or over- 
 eating characterized their living. Nature was allowed full sway ; 
 corsets and stays were entirely out of taste. Of tresses fair they 
 were given neither to borrowing or lending, and the paraphana- 
 lia of the modern toilet stand were unknown. Their Grecian 
 bend was not only Grecian but purely natural. 
 
172 ELEMENT OF BEAUTY IN HELLENIC CULTURE. 
 
 Thus was reared and unfolded that full flower and pride of 
 form, that perfection of human beauty which distinguished the 
 Greeks above all other nations of ancient or modern times, and 
 which scarcely admitted of improvement or addition. The clear 
 cut symmetry of the features, the low brow, short upper lip, bow- 
 like curve of the mouth and rounded chin, the beautiful balance 
 of the limbs, and that perfect modelling of the whole trunk which 
 neither conceals nor exhibits too much the development of the 
 muscles, — all, have come down to us in the innumerable statues, 
 whose ideal forms, were, as to their material part, derived from 
 reality, and lived and moved before the eyes of the artists. 
 
 If we turn to their architecture and sculpture we find here 
 also the same predominant element of beauty. At first mani- 
 festing itself only in the ruder styles, it grew quicker and steadier 
 as the study of nature and the development of the human form 
 became more earnest, and so rapid was the march of Athenian 
 skill when once turned to sculpture and architecture, that the 
 last vestiges of the earliest forms had not yet entirely disappeared, 
 when the final union*of truth and beauty was accomplished in 
 the school of Phidias. Led on by an intuitive sense of beauty 
 they aimed at an ideal perfection. The laws of form with all 
 their elusive secrets were thoroughly mastered, and by making 
 nature in her most perfect form, their model, they acquired a 
 facility and power of representing every class of form never at- 
 tained by any other people. Then began that labor of beauti- 
 fying and adorning every city and sacred spot until Greece be- 
 came the sanctuary of everything that was beautiful. Athens 
 was the central point of all this culture. Grecian art and skill 
 were tasked to their utmost to beautify and adorn this noble city. 
 Here were the most superb edifices the world has ever seen. In 
 every direction, wherever the eye might turn, statues, temples, 
 porticoes, monuments and pillars, wrought from the purest mar- 
 ble into forms of the most faultless beauty arrested the step and 
 met the admiration. Their agoras, or public places of assembly 
 were surrounded by porticoes, decorated with paintings com- 
 memorative of glorious achievements. But if you would pene- 
 trate the sanctum of this temple of taste, and see where the spirit 
 of beauty had chosen her favorite abode and unveiled her divinest 
 
ELEMENT OF BEAUTY IN HELLENIC CULTUEE. 173 
 
 charms, you must ascend the marble staircase that led to the 
 Acropolis. Over that rugged rock the genius of Athenian art 
 had thrown a glory surpassing even that of fabled Olympus. It 
 vi^as the peerless gem of Greece, the glory and pride of art, the 
 wonder and envy of the world. Here were gathered the statues 
 of heroes and gods without number. Here were collonades and 
 temples of the most exquisite workmanship, while supreme above 
 them all, in absolute and peerless beauty, rich in every grace of 
 architecture and sculpture, rose the stately Parthenon, its spot- 
 less marble sparkling in the sunlight, its soaring pillars embed- 
 ded in the dark blue ether, forming a picture of perfect and ma- 
 jestic loveliness. Such was Athens, but she stood not alone. 
 Delphi, where were gathered the offerings of nations ; Corinth, 
 distinguished for its wealth, luxury, and elegance ; Olympia, 
 whose whole surrounding region, filled with monuments and 
 statues looked like "a garden of the gods," vied with Athens in 
 this wealth of Art. Nay, statues and temples adorned every 
 hamlet throughout Greece. They crowned the rugged hilltops 
 of Arcadia and ^Etolia. They lined the shores of the lonean 
 sea, while they literally crowded the beautiful islands of the 
 ^gean. 
 
 So, too, in their religion, the same living spirit of beauty 
 seemed to pervade. Their worship was, in a measure, a wor- 
 ship of the beautiful in nature and art. It is true it was in one 
 sense an idolatrous religion, yet there was a simplicity of faith 
 and beauty of form no less distinct than what may be found ex- 
 isting in any modern form of worship. Conceiving their gods 
 as independent beings, possessed of given attributes, the human 
 form naturally suggested itself as most expressive of the internal 
 character. Their taste banished the hideous monstrocities of 
 oriental mythology, and substituted in their place idols of grace 
 and beauty ; forms faultless in every grace of architecture ; 
 models taken from real life as developed in its most perfect 
 form. The queenly Juno, the beautiful Minerva, the lovely 
 Venus, were among the idols of their worship ; beings radiant 
 with beauty. But mere outward beauty was not sufficient to 
 satisfy the Greek taste. Each god must be the outward repre- 
 sentative of some living, guiding, controlling spirit. In every 
 
174 ELEMENT OF BEAUTY IN HELLENIC CULTURE. 
 
 phenomenon of nature they saw the sign of pleasure or dis- 
 pleasure of some deity. Their gods were not merely beautiful 
 pieces of ivory in the pure minds of the Greeks. They were 
 the embodiment of spirits, as living, as distinct, as powerful as 
 that of the one Supreme Being of modern times. The Greek 
 saw the raging waters he could not calm ; yet he could dry or 
 drink them up, and thus he conceived the influence of spirit be- 
 hind the act of raging. He could not comprehend one great 
 spirit, but he did conceive the idea of spirit immortal and pow- 
 erful in all the operations of nature and man. He believed, 
 likewise, in immortality. He believed in it as earnestly as the 
 most faithful Christian of to-day. He believed in future reward 
 and punishment, according as his life on earth had been good or 
 bad. He saw in the nourishment of the herbs, and in the fall- 
 ing rain a divine assistance. He believed, moreover, in omni- 
 presence, and this brought him into a closer communion with 
 his gods than is apt to be the case with modern Christians. We 
 are apt to separate Divinity from the life of nature. Imagining 
 our God upon a distant throne, we forget he is in the flowers, 
 and waters, stones, and mountains, and approach them as though 
 they were dead, and governed alone by physical laws. Not so 
 the Greek. He removed not his god from nature, nor ever for 
 a moment attempted to contradict his instinctive sense of a rul- 
 ing spirit every were. It was this spirituality, pervading and 
 breathing through the Greek worship, added to the perfect out- 
 ward representation, that gave to it that beauty of attraction at 
 once so peculiar and irresistible. 
 
 The same sublime spirit of beauty that pervaded over Grecian 
 art, also breathed through and moulded its language and litera- 
 ture. That language so incomparably superior to all others that 
 it alone was selected as the medium for conveying the Divine 
 Will to the human race. Rich in its roots, infinitely flexible in 
 the formation of its words, free and graceful in movement and 
 structure, picturesque in its modes of expression, melodious, 
 possessing for every mood of the mind, every shade of passion, 
 every affection of the heart, every form and aspect of the out- 
 ward world its graphic phrase, its clear, appropriate and rich 
 expression, it was in truth the most admirable instrument on 
 
ELEMENT OF BEAUTY IN HELLENIC CULTUEE. 175 
 
 which poet ever played. The result is seen in their literature. 
 The very first outpourings of their poetic nature exhibit a sym- 
 etry and a beauty never since found in the early writings of any 
 people. Whether we turn to the sublimity of the Homeric 
 poems, the playful wit of Anacreon, the majestic grandeur of 
 ^schylus and Pindar, the noble wisdom of Sophocles, the pa- 
 thetic sweetness of Euripides, the elegance of Xenophon, the 
 clearness of Aristotle, or the perspicuous fluency of Demosthenes, 
 in one and all the same spirit of beauty still prevails. As the 
 geolian harp seems to utter its chance melody to the wandering 
 breeze, so did the sensitive cords of Grecian genius respond 
 through their language and literature to the lighest breath of 
 feeling and fancy with the wildest and richest harmony. 
 
 Such was the influence of beauty on the Grecian mind, and 
 such the prominent position it assumed as an element in his cul- 
 ture. Yet, language fails to describe the absoluteness of the 
 despotism with which the love, the yearning, the passion for the 
 beautiful dominated over the Greek mind. It was a living, 
 quenchless flame ; an all-absorbing, all-controlling principle of 
 his nature. It played over his imagination like the corrusca- 
 tions of a summer evening. It blazed through his soul like the 
 chain lightning of the fierce tempest. It was the object at once 
 of his virtues and his vices, and colored the darkest and bright- 
 est hues of his character. It developed a beauty of human 
 countenance and form never equaled before or since, It cov- 
 ered every valley and hilltop throughout all Greece with marble 
 images of exquisite loveliness, and originated a language and 
 literature in whose undulations the spirit of beauty seems to 
 float like Venus in her own sea foam. The presence of a beau- 
 tiful object filled the Greek with a delirium of transport ; its 
 touch sent a thrill of joy through every vein of his system ; it 
 was, in short, the uncontrollable stimulant to his gratification, 
 the one presiding spirit of his system of education, the one per- 
 vadins: element of his Relig-ion. 
 
176 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 Two singular phenomena have lately appeared in our American Colleges. 
 One the sudden outgrowth and upstarting of innumerable college papers and 
 magazines all over the country, and the other the universal decay and decline 
 of the old literary societies. The rise of the one keeps pace with the decline 
 of the other. The papers are yearly improving in character and increasing 
 in number, while the two ancient debating societies which used to be the glory 
 of every college are every where growing feebler and feebler, and in many 
 places are totally defunct, as in the case of the Philermenian and United 
 Brothers. 
 
 A certain class of men composed mostly of old gentlemen who used to be 
 prime workers in the Philermenian and Brothers in 1822-23, say and firmly 
 believe, that the dissolution of those reverend institutions is a sign of the de- 
 terioration of the college, and consider that the only way to bring the col- 
 lege back to its former standard is to galvanize the old societies up again, 
 which might easily be done, according to their notions, if the students only 
 had the desire for improvement which they had forty years ago. As for the 
 college papers they leave them entirely out of sight, or consider them mere 
 playthings which take up the boys' attention when they ought to be at work at 
 their lessons. 
 
 With all due respect for these old gentlemen, we won't say fogies, it seems 
 to us that the decease of these old societies and the fading interest in debate 
 and oratory which it indicates, is not a peculiarity of this college and its stu- 
 dents, nor is the general feebleness of these societies everywhere to be impu- 
 ted to the degeneracy of the students of to-day. But it is the result and the 
 evidence of far working influences which are at work not only in the college 
 but in the whole nation. And in the same way the rise of the innumerable 
 college papers is not to be attributed to peculiarities of the students of the 
 times but of the times themselves. 
 
 In the early part of this century our country was in great need of orators. 
 Her novel and unwieldy form of government, her immense expanse of sur- 
 , face and variety of population, all tended towards dissension and dismember- 
 ment. In these circumstances there was great need of men who could im- 
 1 press their own strong convictions on the confused masses of the infant nation 
 and organize and stimulate them to the support of the glorious principles upon 
 which our government is founded. The demand produced the supply, accord- 
 . ing to the universal law. The orators of America immediately became her 
 . greatest men, and as soon as oratory became the high road to fame and influ- 
 ence, all ambitious young men naturally began to turn their attention to ora- 
 tory and debate. They became national studies. The debating society be- 
 came a universal institution, and every American citizen who aimed at emi- 
 nence learned, first of all, how to make a good speech. So prominent and 
 universal was this speech-making tendency of the Yankee that it came to be a 
 favorite source of amusement to our foreign cousins. Dickens satirizes it quite 
 
HOME MATTERS. 177 
 
 clever in Martin Chuzzlewit, and almost every one who has written about the 
 American people of the past has made fun of this peculiarity. It was in this 
 condition of things that debating societies were established in college, and 
 under these circumstances they could not but be carried on with zeal. Stim- 
 ulated by the splendid careers of Webster, Clay, Calhoun, Choate, Surges, 
 and others of that constellation of orators and debaters, who will ever live in 
 the memories of Americans as the confirmers and strengtheners of our liberty, 
 students struggled with enthusiasm to prepare themselves for a like success. 
 
 But times have changed. The United States is no longer a declaiming and 
 debating nation but a thinking and reading nation. The silvery voice of the 
 orator can no longer penetrate from side to side of this vast nation. The peo- 
 ple have been organized and educated, and Public Opinion can no longer be 
 led by a single man. The arts of persuasion are out of date, and the intelli- 
 gent people like to imbibe their ideas unadulterated by the specious rhetoric 
 and graceful gesture and sympathetic tones of somebody who is engaged in 
 grinding a particular axe. The orator has ceased to be the leading man. 
 None of the finished speakers of the last few years have taken high stand in 
 public life, and the finer graces of Rhetoric and declamation are fast sinking 
 to the level of the lecture room. The legislator who rises to speak in Con- 
 gress now does not speak one half so much to the hundred or so upon the 
 floor as to the reporters in the gallery, who will spread his words over the 
 broad land in the newspapers, which the people read. Oratory has ceased to 
 be the great influence and the Newspaper has taken its place. We have ceased 
 to be a nation of orators and have become a nation of newspaper readers. 
 The orator has ceased to be the influential man and the rising man, and the 
 editor and writer or publicist, as he is well called, is coming to be the public man 
 •par excellence. Many of our greatest men, many of our richest men, a^id by 
 all odds our most influential men, are Publicists. An editor occupies the 
 second oflice of the nation. Editors occupy many of the chief diplomatic ap- 
 pointments in the gift of the nation. Among our editors are some of our 
 greatest poets and literati, and among the constant writers for our daily and 
 periodical press are numbered the greatest ministers and philosophers and 
 general thinkers which the nation can produce. 
 
 In the first half of the century, the oratorical was the needed element, and 
 the colleges, the purveyors of educated men, supplied the demand by educat- 
 ing skilled debaters and speakers. Societies sprung up of themselves, and 
 were zealously supported and did much good. The demand for orators has 
 ceased and the societies have begun to die out of themselves. 
 
 But another demand has arisen. Editors, Writers, Publicists. Men who 
 study the public good and minister to it daily and constantly by advice and 
 sympathy— these are needed. And as before the demand is creating the sup- 
 ply. Without any apparent reason an immense number of papers and peri- 
 odicals have sprung up in our American colleges. And students are bestow- 
 ing as much thought and labor on them as they ever bestowed on the old de- 
 bating societies. 
 
 It seems to us, then, that the papers of to-day are serving a purpose similar 
 to that of the literary societies of twenty-five years ago. They teach men to 
 think clearly and to enunciate their thoughts in the manner which is best 
 adapted to the times, and will, therefore, be most effective. 
 
178 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 "Whether the influence of the papers be as good as the societies or not, no 
 one can tell, but when fifteen or twenty thousand of the rising young men of 
 the country, placed under different local influences, and swayed by different 
 sectional prejudices, Exhibit such a decided tendency for writing, and against 
 debating and oratory, we must admit that some grand national principles are 
 at work and acknowledge the movement as a " Sign of the Times. 
 
 Class Day. 
 
 There is no doubt that Class Day at Brown is rapidly increasing in interest 
 and importance. Each year greater and greater attractions are presented, 
 and larger and larger crowds gather at the festivities. One of our good Pro- 
 fessors having in mind no doubt the tremendous expense of Class Day at 
 Harvard, and knowing the limited capacity of our students' purses, said not 
 long ago, that he was sorry to see it thus gradually creeping upon us ; here a 
 little and there a little, growing more and more brilliant and costly. But we 
 are glad at the outset to assure those who hold this view, that Class Day this 
 year, in spite of its unexampled brilliancy, and the many new features pre- 
 sented, cost less than any previous one for one college generation at least. 
 The expenses were several dollars less per man than those of '68. 
 
 We especially congratulate the Senior Class upon their successful introduc- 
 tion of so novel and pleasant a feature as the Promenade Concert on Wednes- 
 day evening. And to the ladies whose welcome presence gave at once the 
 chief charm to the evening, and a truthful augury of the day, we would ten- 
 der our modest compliments, even though we must risk their being unheard 
 after the hearty " thank ye " of old Mother Brown. 
 
 We would that our blunt quill could sketch the scene in Manning Hall, for 
 there our fair guests had thronged throughout the early morning. It seemed 
 as though the very walls took pleasure, and for the ladies' sakes alone, in 
 echoing their whispers, for it apparently made but little difference whether the 
 words were such as some lucky fellow would have given a deal to hear, or 
 only some allusion to that timely subject of conversation — the inchworm. 
 Then when the music, that broke in upon the hum of expectant admiration, 
 had ceased, and the procession with traditionary pomp had passed down the 
 middle aisle, it seemed that Class Day had indeed begun. After the opening 
 prayer by President Caswell, Mr. Henry T. Grant, President of the Glass, in 
 a few fitting words welcomed the audience, and expressed the regret of the 
 Class at leaving the familiar scenes and honored faculty ; and, after a brief 
 survey of the history of the Class, introduced the Orator of the day, Mr. Dura 
 P.Morgan. His well chosen theme, "The Energizing and Transforming 
 Power of Strong Convictions," was so ably presented, though with no super- 
 fluous gilt of rhetoric, as to show that the speaker really felt and meant what 
 he spoke. The truest word of praise we can offer is that it excelled alike as 
 an exponent, and as an illustration of his subject. 
 
 The singing of the College Glee Club was a most acceptable surprise, — and 
 to them and to their leader, Mr. Elliott, is due the honor of giving the best 
 music ever heard in Brown, — and the best appreciated, as was testified by the 
 hearty encore which greeted their performance of " The March." 
 
HOME MATTERS. " 179 
 
 The vigorous applause that saluted the Class Poet, Mr. Preston D. Jones ^ 
 and the attentiveness with which every one present seemed to follow his story 
 of Foscari the Doge, has already expressed our opinion. While his descrip- 
 tive passages brought Venice vividly before us, we especially admired the 
 felicitous turn given in the concluding lines addressed to his classmates. 
 
 After sitting so long in the heated chapel, all were willing to change the 
 scene, entertained though all had been. The customary congratulations were 
 offered to the Orator and Poet, none the less sincere, however, for being cus- 
 tomary, — and the usual fusion took place between the impatient students, who 
 with longing eyes had been lining the back and sides of the hall, — and the fair 
 occupants of the settees. We may add that this, too, was none the less sin- 
 cere from being usual. The audience gradually departed, a large part repair- 
 ing to the Presidential mansion, where a refreshing collation and still more 
 refreshing social intercourse whiled an hour away. There is a significance in 
 this simple reception which is apt to be overlooked. Class Day is purely a 
 students' festival. In its conception and execution the officers of the College 
 have no part and claim none. But this invitation by the President that the 
 students yield themselves and their guests for an hour to his hospitality, 
 throws over the day an official sanction which otherwise it might seem to lack, 
 and which at once elevates and graces the occasion. 
 
 There seems to be scarcely any lull in the festivities. At 3 o'clock the 
 sound of gay music draws us to Rhode Island Hall. As we enter we are at 
 once struck by one change in the arrangements for the promenade concert. 
 In preceding years it has been composed of alternate intervals of clanging 
 music by the full brass band and the social conversation of the promenaders. 
 The two could not exist together. The result was lamentable in the extreme. 
 It is a time when the student's heart is buoyant and tenderly disposed. It is 
 a place where portraits of men of other days breathe romance into the sur- 
 rounding air. But no sooner do the circumambulatings co^^ple become deeply 
 sunk in mutual interest and admiration, than bang ! the full blast of twenty- 
 five pieces of brass and sheepskin roars about them. True, soft eyes are just 
 as effective, and soft heads just as much affected; but those soft words, that 
 delicate compliment, — perhaps he had been thinking all day how he would say 
 it, — are smothered at their birth. It is by no means romantic to shout in your 
 fair companion's ear, and even if it were, it is certainly not agreeable to have 
 the music suddenly soften or cease entirely at .that very moment and reveal 
 to the assembled company the words that were intended for the ears of one 
 alone. We were highly gratified, therefore, to find the boisterous clangor of 
 brazen trumpets exchanged for the more refined tones of the stringed orches- 
 tra. Nothing but an unaccountable mistake prevented a like arrangement 
 last year. The assembled company was of an unusually fine character, both 
 in appearance and in social position. Following the example set by the pre- 
 ceding class, a few couples relieved the formal promenade by a more lively 
 dance, but the crowded state of the hall and the elevated temperature soon 
 proved too much for their enthusiasm. The hall is undoubtedly too limited 
 for such an occasion, although affording abundant space for the collections 
 therein deposited. It must be regarded as rather a misfortune that no better 
 one can be secured sufficiently near the College. The suggestion has been 
 made, and not without due consideration of the subject, that the Commence- 
 ment tent be erected to supply the want. 
 
180 • HOME MATTERS. 
 
 The crowd of promenaders gradually thinned and at length was completely 
 transferred to the back Campus, where were to be held perhaps the most in- 
 teresting exercises of the day, — the ceremonies attendant upon the planting of 
 the Class Tree, or something representing that agricultural operation.* "We 
 were especially gratified at the formality of the procession, the head of which, 
 even, before starting, was almost at the place of destination. After the classes 
 had taken their somewhat miscellaneous position about the tree, the President 
 of the Class successively introduced the speakers. Without attempting any 
 abstract of the speeches we may characterize them as very appropriate to the 
 occasion. The time demands neither abstract discussion nor an undue 
 amount of levity, but a serious consideration and earnest presentation of the 
 relation which the day fulfils to the past and the future of the assembled class. 
 We exempt, of course, from such requirements the Address to the Undergrad- 
 uates, which presumes and demands sparkling wit and burlesque. This diffi- 
 cult position was well filled. The speaker, who seemed continually striving 
 to repress some irrepressible joke, at once prepossessed his audience in his 
 favor, while the prepossession was settled into satisfaction, and the satisfac- 
 tion stirred up to cachinnation by the jokes and the sly but unmistakeable hits 
 which poured forth unceasingly. The off'-hand, hearty manner in which they 
 were delivered was refreshingly in contrast with the stiffness which too often 
 marks the College orator. The address, like the one of last year, closed with 
 some serious, excellent advice to the assembled Undergraduates. We know 
 of no College whose sons, more than those of Brown, need to realize that the 
 study of books is not the only part of mental improvement, that the walk to 
 and from meals is not the only requisite for physical growth, that the discus- 
 sions of the class-room are not the only intercourse necessary for the refine- 
 ment and cultivation of the heart and soul. The Address to the Undergradu- 
 ates is, and always will be, an excellent institution till its wit degenerates into 
 lowness, and its allusions become too personal or disrespectful. Di, talem 
 avertite casum. But the opportunity and the temptation are both ample. 
 
 The medley of College songs with which the band followed the speeches 
 was of unusual excellence, and we can assure that skillful corps of musicians 
 that their finest selections from opera or oratorios are not more pleasing to 
 both students and guests than their fine arrangement of our simple airs. The 
 address of President Caswell, referring as it did to subjects of special interest 
 to the students at such a time, won for him increased sympathy and respect. 
 Hereupon ensued the ceremony of planting the tree. We regret to say that 
 this part of the proceedings was not accompanied by that dignity and order 
 which have previously marked it and which should always characterize such 
 a ceremony. The rushing and pushing, the loud laughter and jests rather 
 marred the occasion. In fact the arrangement of the classes about the tree 
 has never been as orderly as it might be. If the Seniors would form the inside 
 circle retaining that position through the whole ceremony, with the other 
 classes in their order outside, it would be more convenient as well as sym- 
 metrical. The exercises were closed by singing the Class Tree Ode, written 
 in German by a member of the Class, and arranged to music from Von Weber. 
 
 * We would respectfully suggest that a part of the magnificent endowment of our Agricul. 
 tural College be appropriated for the encouragement of this, the only visible exemplification 
 and result of its theories. 
 
HOME MATTERS. • 181 
 
 The manner in which it was rendered was highly creditable to the practice 
 and talent of the class. The procession having been reformed, retraced its 
 line of march and at length broke its footsore ranks at the Chapel. The 
 throng after waiting in vain for the usual College songs, which, for obvious 
 reasons, were postponed, gradually dispersed. 
 
 As we left the Campus we noticed preparations making which betokened 
 novel arrangements for the evening promenade. Between seven and eight 
 the guests began to reassemble upon the green till it presented a lively ap- 
 pearance. The Band, instead of occupying the Chapel steps, as heretofore, 
 was elevated on a staging some distance in front, a position much more ad- 
 vantageous both for ornament and for utility. On three sides of this platform 
 were hung between the trees rows of Chinese lanterns, which reminded us 
 very strongly of the beautiful illumination four years ago in honor of Lee's 
 surrender. Two locomotive lights at opposite ends of the Campus vied with 
 each other in furnishing the least light possible. The palm must be awarded 
 the one at the south end, which its opponent soon stared out of countenance. 
 The latter then seemed to become lonely and soon went out after it. These 
 also reminded us of the calcium light at the aforesaid illumination, which, 
 however brilliant in its capacities, benevolently reduced its light to that of a 
 penny tallow in its tender regard for the eyes of the orators! The excellent 
 music of the band alternated with College songs and more classic productions 
 by the College Glee Club. This was a decided innovation upon preceding 
 programmes, and as decided an improvement. Nothing of the kind ever re- 
 ceived or deserved such applase in our recollections of Brown music. 
 
 Notwithstanding the attractions of the front Campus, many strayed to the 
 rear, and felt amply repaid as they discovered and entered the beautiful green- 
 house of Mr. Royal C. Taft, just outside of the College yard. Its contents 
 have been too generously laid open to the public to need our description or 
 praise, but we can assure its owner that his generosity toward the student is 
 not easily forgotten. This is not the first time that Brown has been in his 
 debt. The early days of the Brunonian knew his bounty, and our first Uni- 
 versity Nine were the grateful recipients of his uniform beneficence. 
 
 At ten the music ceased, and with the usual confusion of tongues and shout- 
 ing of classes the procession to the Class Supper Avas formed. With the sa- 
 gacity of an old hand who "knows the ropes," we led the guests under our 
 charge upon the Chapel steps. We explained to them the old custom, ob- 
 served for many years, of marching from the south to the north end of the 
 Campus saluting with cheers each of the old familiar buildings, and then bid- 
 ding farewell to Old Brown in general, marching down College Hill. We 
 dilated upon the significance as well as the beauty of such a custom till we 
 wrought our fair proteges quite up to enthusiasm. Fancy our feelings when 
 the forgetful marshals led the boisterous procession straight out at the large 
 gate, and at once down the precipitous height ! Hungry marshals ! 'Twas 
 sacrilege ! 'Twas rude violation of all precedent and antiquity ! May future 
 Class Days be spared such an ignominious innovation. 
 
 The escorting classes consigned the famished Seniors to the care of Mr. 
 Ardoene, at the Horse Guards Armory, where we too must leave them. 
 Keluctantly, however, do we withdraw, for we happen to know well the pleas- 
 ant conviviality and the fraternal spirit of the Class Supper. But we should 
 
182 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 be trespassing there now and we follow the retreating under-classmen. "We 
 enter the College gates once more. Now for the settling of that long score ! 
 The valiant Sophomore sniffs the battle, and begins to roll up his pugnacious 
 sleeves, while the meek Freshman hopes they won't do anything now, he isjso 
 tired, and besides he's got his best clothes on. The sudden quiet which en- 
 sues seems inexplicable till the appearance of three or four stalwart blue uni- 
 forms reveals its cause. A considerable steam passes off in the form of muf- 
 fled shouts at the "Peelers," in which each student seems trying to produce 
 the auricular delusion that his voice comes from somebody else. But the 
 said steam is rapidly condensed by the appearance of the President, who effects 
 a compromise. The objectionable, guardians of the nocturnal peace are re- 
 moved and each student " disperses to his several rooms." Quiet reigns once 
 more over the Campus after a day and evening of excitement and gayety. 
 But the irrepressible Seniors hail the smiling morn at five with songs of una- 
 bated vigor, though of diminished sweetness. Perhaps not the least endur- 
 ing record of their festival will be the following from the Police Report of that 
 morning : — " The Sergeant is persuaded that a prophet is unnecessary to fore- 
 tell that the Class of '69 — God bless 'em — will seldom be saluted with rude 
 cries of ' louder.' " 
 
 Junior £^s:lii3)ition. 
 
 When nature is just beginning to robe herself in emerald green, Brown 
 calls together the youth and beauty of Providence to listen to the maiden ef- 
 forts of her Juniors. A clear sky and a genial sun are essential to the suc- 
 cess of a College festival ; and the Class of 'Seventy have nothing to complain 
 of in this respect. The goodly number by which the fair sex was represented 
 proves that their interest in Junior I^x. continues undiminished. Manning 
 Hall, with its gaily nodding ribbons and flowers, looked like a clover fleld. 
 The opportunity which the Exhibition offers for a display of the spring fash- 
 ions is unrivalled. We doubt if the fair denizens of Providence ap^jreciate 
 the advantages they enjoy in this respect over those of less favored cities. 
 However, everything passed off pleasantly ; nothing occurring to mar the har- 
 mony of the exercises. Music and speaking alternated in regular order. And 
 the Professor in Rhetoric has every reason to congratulate himself on so au- 
 spicious an inauguration of the exhibitions of his department. After the con- 
 clusion of the exercises, we noticed one feature which we hope to see kept up 
 in future years. Instead of immediately separating, many lingered for a short 
 promenade on the Campus, while others visited Rhode Island Hall and spent 
 an hour inspecting the specimens of art collected there. The following are 
 the names of the speakers with their subjects attached : William T. Peck, 
 Oratio Latina— De Virtutis Notione Vera ; I.Nelson Ford, The Statesman- 
 ship of Richelieu; Wilfred H. Munro, The Martyrdom of Euphrasia; Joseph 
 B. Bishop, The Destruction of Pompeii ; William A. Smith, Destiny of the 
 Mechanic Arts ; Thomas Burgess, The Heroic Age of Scotland; Joseph C. 
 Ely, Music as an Expression of Thought; Orlo B. Rhodes, The Legend of St. 
 Catherine; Richard S. Colwell, Ingratitude of Contemporaries; Elisha F. 
 Fales, Dante's Beatrice, as a Type of Womanhood ; Alonzo Williams, Science, 
 a Search for One Universal Law; Jonathan F. Lyon, The Conquests of 
 Genius. 
 
HOME MATTERS. 183 
 
 Glee Club. 
 
 The concert of the Brown Glee Club was heard by most of the men in col- 
 lege. Its probable influences are simple and evident enough,, and we have 
 little left to say in the way of explanation or criticism which has not. been said 
 already. The affair was emphatically a success. A success in spite of obsta- 
 cles innumerable and defects not a few. Such an audience as gathered to 
 hear it is rarely seen in this city or any other. Many of the most distinguished 
 men in the city — men who would as soon think of going to an ordinary con- 
 cert as to an Irish ball, were seen in the seats at the Horse Guards Armory 
 on the evening of June 14th. And many of the Matrons of the city, too, were 
 there, the very props of its respectability, and not only the elder biit the 
 younger ladies, the beautiful girls of Providence, were there. And last but 
 not least, the students. The swelly ushers, darting about doing their best to 
 make the guests comfortable, the filius familias student dutifully seated be- 
 side mater and pater familias, and last but not least, the uproarious gentlemen 
 in the gallery. And they all enjoyad it. Judges, statesmen, pliilosophers, 
 leaders of society, school girls, students down the very Freshmen themselves, 
 every body enjoyed it. Faults and all. They appreciated the real good 
 music, and there was not a little, laughed over the abominable funny old col- 
 lege songs, and sympathized heartily with whatever little shoitcomings were 
 inseparable from the occasion. Considering that it was not only the first con- 
 cert of the Glee Club but the first the College ever gave, we cannot but won- 
 der at the success of it, and thank the friends who contributed their kind pres- 
 ence to make it a success. It is a pure pleasure to sing good music and to 
 hear it, and we hope that this will be fully realized by the undergraduates, and 
 that the Glee Club may be perpetuated, and that concerts having all the ex- 
 cellencies and none of the defects of the first one may be given in future at 
 the end of every term. 
 
 Ball Matters. 
 
 In our last number we ventured to prophesy that the benefits of the new 
 Gymnasium would be manifested during the season in the athletic sports — 
 and especially in base ball. At that time the ball men were hard at work in 
 the Gymnasium making sinew for future " daisy clippers," and patiently 
 biding their time till the clouds should break and the weather become settled. 
 We take up the record with great diffidence, well aware how sensitive our 
 "base ballists " are to criticism, and how important it is from the intense in- 
 terest taken in ball matters to say tha right thing. 
 
 The clouds broke at last. The Gymnasium was deserted for the Campus. 
 The dumb-bell gave way to the regulation ball : the Indian club to the Phila- 
 delphia bat. Class Treasurers went around with an insinuating smile, candi- 
 dates to fill the vacancies on the -'University" cultivated nonchalance in tak- 
 ing "flies," challenges were discussed over the tin dipper at the pump, and 
 ball matters were buried beneath a mountain of words. 
 
 The first sensation was the Freshman uniform. Not more confident was 
 Achilles in Vulcan's suit of mail, than the Freshman in his fancy tailoring and 
 his pretty brown buttons ! So anxious were they to air their new suits that 
 they met the Sophomores on the Training Ground as early as April 17th. 
 
184 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 Now it is a matter of college etiquette that the upper should have the advan- 
 tage over the lower class. The Freshmen were well bred in academic cour- 
 tesy, and allowed the Sophomores to carry off the ball by a score of 23 to 12. 
 
 Nothing daunted, the Freshmen ventured to have a tilt with the Metacomet 
 Club. The game was played at Taunton, May 5th, and resulted favorably to 
 the Freshmen. The score being 19 to 17. The Freshmen, though over- 
 matched in weight played with great spirit, and fairly won their laurels. Mr. 
 C. Hitchcock, of the " University," acted as Umpire. We leave it for a mem- 
 ber of '72, noted for his high imagination and good appetite to recount the 
 adventures and pleasures of this "Freshman Excursion." 
 
 A return match between the same Nines occurred June 5th, on the Training 
 Ground. This game was also closely contested, the fielding on each side 
 being good. The score stood 11 to 9 in favor of the Metacomet Club. That 
 the courtesy and hospitality of the latter club were amply repaid, the name of 
 the caterer, Mr. Ardoene, is a sufficient proof. The final game of the series 
 will not be played this season owing to the engagements of the Freshmen. 
 
 The first game of the "University" Nine was played June 1st, with the 
 Somerset Club of Boston. This match disappointed the expectations of the 
 College, the playing of the University being uniformly poor, if we except the 
 out-field, and the first base. Of the Somersets, Cabot, Burdett and Miller 
 were especially good in their positions, while Goodwin's pitching was very 
 efiective. The game was called at the end of the seventh innings, the score 
 standing Brown 23, Somerset 21. 
 
 The second match was with the University Nine of Wesleyan, on the 
 grounds of the Pequot Club, New London. The game was characterized by 
 good feeling on both sides. The Wesleyans displayed good fielding, but did 
 not wield the bat so powerfully as the Brown Nine. We append the score : 
 
 BROWN. R. O. WESLEYAN. E. O. 
 
 Tales, 1 4 4 Ransom, 3 2 4 
 
 Earle, 2 1 5 Ingraham, M 1 4 
 
 Grant, S 1 .... 6 Kent, L 2.... 4 
 
 Woodworth,L 5 2 Phillips, P 3 3 
 
 Hitchcock, 3 5. . . .2 Chadwick, S 2. . . . 2 
 
 HerreshoflF, P 9 6....1 Hill, 1 2 3 
 
 Colwell, M 5. ...2 Young, R 2.... 3 
 
 Howland, C 4.... 3 Miller, 2 4.... 2 
 
 Jennings, R 4 2 Porter, C 1 2 
 
 Total 35 27 Total 19 27 
 
 123456788 
 
 Wesleyan 9 1 7 2 19 
 
 Brown 7 3 2 8 4 5....0 3 3 35 
 
 The Umpire was Mr. Thomas W. Haven, of the Pequot Club. The scorers 
 were Mr. C. S. Edgerton for Wesleyan, and Mr. Daniel Beckwith for Brown. 
 
 Our record closes June 15th. The remainder of the season promises to be 
 active. The University meets the Lowells June 17th, and the Harvards June 
 19th. The Freshmen expect to play with the Harvard Freshmen at an early 
 day. The match with Yale was unfortunately arranged for the sama day as 
 that with Wesleyan, and hence was postponed, after a strong effort had been 
 made to meet both Nines at New Haven. 
 
HOME INIATTERS. 185 
 
 But the interest in ball matters is not likely to end with the term. The 
 Freshmen have made arrangements to play Avith the different Freshman Nines 
 in New England immediately after the close of the examinations. Leaving 
 Providence, Thursday, July 1st, they will play according to the following 
 schedule : 
 
 Yale College, Freshman Friday, . .July 2. 
 
 Wesleyan Union " Saturday, " 3. 
 
 Trinity College, " Monday, " 5. 
 
 Amherst College, " .....Tuesday, " 6. 
 
 Dartmouth, " Thursday," 8. 
 
 The party will consist of the following men : — A. J. Jennings, P. and Cap- 
 tain; F. lOng, C. ; J. Earle, 1; J. Hendricks, 2; A. F. Wood, 3; A. P. Car- 
 roll, S. ; W. V. Kellen, L. ; F. W. Barnett, M. ; J. C. B. Woods, R. ; and 
 E. I. Gammell, Scorer. 
 
 The expenses of this tour are defrayed partly by the Nine, and partly by a 
 fund of three hundred dollars raised by private subscription. In addition to 
 this, the Class has raised during the term from its own resources two hundred 
 dollars for the uniform, and one hundred and twenty-five dollars to meet inci- 
 dental expenses. 'Seventy-two has a good record. 
 
 The performance of the College Nine thus far clearly shows a radical de- 
 fect somewhere. There has been great want of success in arranging matches 
 and still greater want of success in playing them after they have been ar- 
 ranged. There is such a defect, and it is evident. There is a great lack of 
 unity of feeling, and unity of playing. The Nine does not seem animated by 
 the esprit du corps, which animates the Harvards and the Lowells, and which 
 has done so much for the Freshmen and which is so creditably evident in 
 their Nine. There at present in College a larger number of practical and 
 skillful ball players than ever before. But until they get used to playing to- 
 gether in their own positions we can hope only for a second class Nine. This 
 want of unity, of sympathy in our College Nine has been noticed by every- 
 body. Members of opposing Nines have noticed it. Professors have noticed 
 it, every one who has seen them play has noticed it. And it is a most fatal 
 fault. The vim which remedies it must come from the interest and pride of 
 the whole body of students in their Nine, and from patriotic self-sacrifice and 
 industry on the part of the members of it. We cannot but believe that the 
 College spirit of Brown is increasing. And there is need, for the Ball Nine 
 is not the only institution which suffers from lack of united action. And as 
 this increases we may fairly expect to see the Ball Nine improve, and if we 
 can only start on this road of development every conflict, every defeat, will 
 be to us but a stepping stone to eminence instead of a disaster and a discour- 
 agement. 
 
 Hope Deferred. 
 
 " Hope deferred," says the wise man, " maketh the heart sick." It will be 
 remembered that in our last issue, we took occasion to allude to the increased 
 interest manifested in the "Brown Navy." We had fondly hoped that what 
 was so well begun would be carried forward until the " Brown Navy " should 
 rank second to none in the country. But alas for our hopes, they went down 
 with our crew in their late attempt to ascertain the character of the Seekonk's 
 bottom. ' 
 
186 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 Who will ever forget the shouts which rent the air as we beheld our noble 
 crew bearing in triumph their new boat from the depot to the Seekonk ! Ah ! 
 what visions of glory for old " Brown " arose in our minds ! We fancied our- 
 selves at Worcester. We saw three crews opposite the grand stand on lake 
 Quinsigamond ready to start. Harvard was on one side, Yale on the other, 
 and Brown in the middle. How our hearts throbbed as we saw them off! At 
 first Harvard took the lead, Yale close behind, and Brown hard on the Yale, 
 but the Brown boys seemeji determined to win a golden reputation for once, 
 and gradually gaining on both the other crews, actually rounded the stake 
 just a boat length ahead ! Frantic enthusiasm now took possession of the 
 friends of Brown, the ladies waved their broivn handkerchiefs, the gentlemen 
 threw up their hats with brown ribbon, and cheer after cheer rent the air. 
 Down came the Brown crew, actually lifting the boat out of the water at every 
 stroke, and passed the winning stake almost three boat lengths ahead of the 
 Harvard! Such was our dream; but alas, hope told a flattering tale. Since 
 then how things have changed ! Our ardor has been cooled by the repeated 
 dips our noble crew have made in their vain attempts to remove red-bridges 
 and other obstructions in the Seekonk by butting against them with their gal- 
 lant skiff. 
 
 But seriously, gentlemen, what does all this blundering and delaying mean ? 
 You began well and gave every promise of success ; what hinders you now ? 
 Why has not more been done this season in boating? On whom rests the 
 blame ? If the Captain is incompetent, let him resign and elect another in his 
 place. If the right men are not in the crew let us have a change. We have 
 muscle enough, and brains enough to regulate and control it. If money is 
 needed, in the name of common sense, let a paper be passed around ; there is 
 money enough and sufficient college spirit in the University to supply all ne- 
 cessary wants of the crew. If anything is to be done in the boating line, let 
 it be done at once. There has been play enough, let us now have work. 
 
 The Prize I>eclaiiiatioias. 
 
 In accordance with the generous provision of Mr. Thomas Carpenter, three 
 prizes, one of sixty, one of thirty-six, and one of twenty-four dollars are this 
 year made available for the first time to those members of the Junior Class, 
 who, after a trial at a public exhibition, are, by a committee of five appointed 
 for the purpose, given the first, second and third rank respectively of excel- 
 lence in speaking. This year the speaking is on Saturday, June nineteenth. 
 Twelve men will take part. 
 
 The committee of award consists of Prof. Bancroft, Chairman; Rev. Dr. 
 Caswell, President of the Board of Fellows, and Hon. W. S. Patten, Chan- 
 cellor, appointed by the Corporation ; Eev. J. G. Vose and Rev. J. W. Chur- 
 chill, appointed by the Class. 
 
 While we must gratefully acknowledge the generous donation, we must 
 however question the wisdom of giving the prizes to the Junior Class. Since 
 they are to be given for excellence in elocution, and the pieces must, without 
 exception, be selected, it would seem more appropriate to give them to either 
 the Sophomore or the Freshman Class, especially since these classes now 
 have none. It must appear like taking backward steps, for men that have 
 
HOME MATTEES. 187 
 
 just shoAvn themselves quite able as writers as well as speakers to return to 
 the mere mechanical efforts of speaking, to again repeat the " effusive," 
 "expulsive" and "explosive," and once more, as school boys, ring their 
 changes on the speeches of Burke and Webster, or the productions of some 
 other favorite author of fine English. Indeed it seems almost absurd, and 
 forgetful of the superior demands for elegance and strength in composition. 
 
 We would by no means underrate the necessity of careful training in ora- 
 tory in the Junior and Senior years, but only insist upon the greater propriety 
 of making this drill a specialty for the first two years, and of connecting it 
 with original composition during the last two years. Any man capable of 
 performing the duties of Junior year is capable of writing a piece suited to the 
 display of his oratorical powers, and thus secure a double advantage. After 
 having advanced thus far, if he can only furnish breath and muscle for other's 
 effusions, he had better drop out of college, and devote himself to theatrical 
 practice ; or better, use his strength in some more useful occupation than 
 beating or splitting the air, and completely covering up his own personality. 
 
 In connnection with this subject we wish to call attention to the need here 
 felt of more speaking in college. While it must be admitted that the import- 
 ance of oratory as an art has been materially lessened by the almost unlimi- 
 ted diffusion of literature through the press, it nevertheless still demands care- 
 ful attention from all educated men. To the Freshmen the College gives no 
 opportunity for speaking. All interest that may have been excited in it at the 
 preparatory school is allowed to die out. Sophomore year is allowed to pass 
 in the same manner, bad habits being left to be confirmed rather than removed. 
 During Junior year even, only five or six speeches are required, and these 
 are given only before the class, except the one at Junior Exhibition, to which 
 only a small number of the class is eligible. What wonder then that in many 
 cases the speaking is a failure ; that the knees tremble, the voice becomes low 
 and timid, and every movement forced and mechanical ; and that besides this, 
 many good writers are restrained from displaying their powers, since they feel 
 their impotence to give proper expression to their thoughts upon the stage. 
 If any confidence and power are displayed upon this occasion, they must have 
 been gained mainly before coming to College, or in exercises outside of it. 
 During the whole course, including the prize speaking, there are at most only 
 four opportunities for speaking in public, many will get only three, some two, 
 and some will get none. We confidently believe the majority of every class 
 feels the need of more drill than this, and would welcome any plan to secure 
 greater advantages in this direction. Many, we are aware, do not want them, 
 and would regard them irksome, but if concession to the inclinations of some 
 men in College should become the rule, all discipline would be at once sus- 
 pended, and the Professors would cut every day in the week. 
 
 What plan is most feasible for removing this defect we are not fully decided 
 upon. The subject is so important that we cannot suppose it has wholly es- 
 caped the attention of the Faculty, but since no provisions have been made, it 
 would seem that insuperable objections exist. We would however suggest, if 
 such objections do not exist, a return to the old plan here, and to the plan 
 found now in some other colleges, of having some declamations during the 
 first two years, and more orations during the last two years before the Class, 
 the College and the public. Two or three orations a week, a part from the 
 
188 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 Jnnior Class and a part from the Senior Class, to insure rivalry, delivered in 
 Chapel before or after prayers, would, we think, help secure the desired re- 
 sult. Of course it would be something of a bore, but it is better to bore and 
 be bored for only four years, than to keep up the process for a life time. A 
 few other prizes, not necessarily large, would be a great aid. The only thing 
 needed is competition, through the whole class or college, if possible. We 
 want criticism, such a system as shall draw men out, make them do their best, 
 feel the disgrace of unnecessary failure, and struggle for the rewards of suc- 
 cess. The boating and base ball men of some of our colleges furnish com- 
 mendable examples of the effort needed. They lose no means that will in- 
 crease their skill or strength ; the idea of mediocrity is scouted. Such a ten- 
 sion of intellectual forces in the line of composition and oratory is needed 
 here. The Brunonian is doing in its line something, but the help of a new 
 system is required. Will not the Powers that be plan to give it to us ? 
 
 A FresliiBian Hxciti'sion. 
 
 An intelligent observer would h-eve found no reflection of the threatening 
 and gloomy clouds which obscured the sun on the morning of the 23d of May, 
 in the face of those patriotic freshmen who left Providence on the 10.40 
 train. Not even the remark of their fair fellow passenger. Miss Kellogg, 
 could damp their spirits, though it was cruel in her to say that their swell 
 singing sounded " as if they were practicing for the Peace Jubilee. The sin- 
 gle drawback to perfect happiness, was the unpropitious weather, and when 
 at Mansfield, old Sol came out in all his native ardor, a Bacchanalian dance 
 of joy was performed in a manner which not a little astonished those stolid 
 beings who at Mansfield, as at all country towns, loaf away long days on a 
 bench outside of the station. 
 
 We found that the ground upon which the game was to be played, was what 
 the geographies call diversified. The Second Base was stationed at the brow 
 of a noble hill, while balls struck to right field left the spectators in doubt 
 whether they would be secured by the fielder or caught on the fly by the lit- 
 tle mill stream which flowed near, both being equally hidden from view in the 
 little valley beneath. Still, this was not a suflScient obstacle to prevent a 
 most interesting and well contested game, the result of which is known. 
 After the game the weary base ballists and a large outside deputation of hun- 
 gry '72 men, accepted the hospitalities of the Metacomets, and were soon seat- 
 ed at the festive board. A bevy of the pretty young ladies of Taunton, were 
 present and enlivened the occasion by singing some selections of songs. The 
 freshmen returning the compliment. "Keep to the right," sang the ladies. 
 We think it right, sir, on every Saturday night, sir, etc., replied the students. 
 " Follow the golden rule," remarked the maidens. Oh ! we think it is no sin, 
 sir, to take the sophomores in, sir, (audacious was'nt it?) responded the 
 freshmen. In the intervals they managed to care ^pretty well for their carnal 
 needs, and to fortify the inner man effectually with the bounteous cheer of 
 their hosts. " And all went merry as a marriage bell," as Byron hath it, or 
 the more forcible phrase of Daniel Pratt, " everything was harmonious." 
 
 The trip back, — the hearty congratulations of our honored professors ; the 
 
HOME MATTERS. 189 
 
 immense howling and innumerable delightful flirtations, all those many pleas- 
 ant things which took place during that trip, we can't stop to narrate. 
 
 But as we stood in front of the Chapel that night, almost within the "shade 
 of its time honored walls," — as we received the congratulations of friends, 
 and poured out in a parting song our love for our Alma Mater, it is safe to 
 say that the moon peered down through the trees upon the happiest Freshmen 
 Brunonia has seen for many a year. Among the pleasant memories of Fresh- 
 man year, now almost gone, we must stow our visit to the land of Brick and 
 Herring. 
 
 Mr. Arnold B. Chace has resigned the position of Instructor in Chemistry. 
 During the short time in which he has been connected with the college he has 
 made many friends, and all who have been his pupils will regret his withdraw- 
 al from a position which he is so well qualified to occupy. 
 
 Professor Churchill of Andover, who gave instruction in Elocution to the 
 Junior and Senior classes, has recently been ordained to the ministry. 
 
 We make our last appearance as editors in this number, and we take this 
 opportunity to thank the kiad friends who have patronized the magazine dur- 
 ing the year, and still more those who have contributed to it. To the students 
 in general we are indebted for their cordial support which has made the Bru- 
 nonian what it is. To the President and Faculty, and to Professors Chace 
 and Lincoln in particular, we are under deep obligations for valuable advice 
 as well as for literary and pecuniary contributions. Our thanks are also due 
 to Messrs. W. H. Lyon and Wm. E. Lincoln, of '68, for efiicient assistance. 
 
 In looking back upon the career and results of the Brunonian since its first 
 foundation we cannot help feeling that they have been worthy of the labor 
 they have cost. We congratulate the students and all interested in their wel- 
 fare upon the improvement in the appearance and general tone of men and 
 things in College, during the last three years, and we hold it to be high praise 
 of the Brunonian, itself one of the evidences of our progress, that it has been 
 the means of still further stimulating and directing this advancement. While 
 signal and most marked improvement in style of thinking and writing, has 
 been observed in all those who have been regular contributors to the Bruno- 
 nian, still we feel that its greatest benefit has been the subtle influence of re- 
 finement and culture which its contributors have breathed into it and which 
 have worked insensibly upon the whole body of students. 
 
 The departing board has been a harmonious one. In spite of troublesome 
 complications of which we have had our share, in spite of some short-comings 
 as to which you must be judges, our connection has been altogether pleasant, 
 and we of '69 who are no more to appear in these familiar pages, can heartily 
 say that no friendships we have made in College will be more lasting than 
 those of the Editorial board, and that nothing we have done or could have 
 done here will rfibrd us a profounder satisfaction in the future than our efforts 
 for the support and improvement of The Brunonian. 
 
190 HOME MATTEES. 
 
 The Editor's ^JiVindo^v §eat. 
 
 The account of Class Day in the " Home Matters." is written by gentle- 
 men not in the Class of '69, and is inserted without change by the editor. The 
 omission of the beautiful custom of cheering the buildings which is spoken of 
 was fully made up for on the next morning. The article on "The Diet of the 
 Eomans," which appears on page 164, is an original article written for the 
 " Brunonian " some forty years ago. We copy it from the back number in 
 which it appeared. The authorship of the piece is enveloped in mystery 
 though it is supposed to be by a gentleman, since become eminent in letters, 
 who has a son now in college. Among the articles in the old "Brunonian" 
 are many of which the writers have since become well known, and several 
 written by the fathers of students now in college. It was published in 1829- 
 30, and '31. The motto is an excellent one for a college publication : Scribi- 
 miis indocti doctique." 
 
 With this number we publish a full index of the contents of both volumes of 
 the Brunonian. 
 
 In a very able article on College government in the Nation of June 10th, 
 we find the following golden words : ' ' We believe it is now generally con- 
 ceded in spite of all that we hear about the new education, that colleges do 
 not and never will turn out many fully equipped scholars. Any body who 
 recollects accurately the stock of knowledge that he brought with him from 
 the University will recollect, no matter how brilliant a student he may have 
 been, that it was comically small. What University training gives is a cer- 
 tain tone of mind, a certain way of looking at things, a certain amount of re- 
 ceptivity, and a useful acquaintance with the relative amount of a man's own 
 powers and acquirements. In short what it does is to influence the character 
 and quality of the intellect rather than supply all that is necessary to be 
 known. — In short we want in college more influence ; the learning will take 
 care of itself. Whether scientific or classical we suspect the amount of it 
 young men will absorb and then forget will always remain pretty much the 
 same, but there is no conceivable limit to the effect the right kind of collegi- 
 ate atmosphere might produce upon the youthful mind." 
 
 The New York Evening Mail of June 11th, in an editorial article enthusi- 
 astically cheers on the taste for active sports which now prevails. It ascribes 
 this to the influence of the war : "Since the war the cultivation of athletic 
 sports has gained at once dignity and popularity. Even the ladies have tired 
 of the fashionable milk-sops who once made acceptable cavaliers and delight 
 in the attention of the handsome militiamen; of the bronzed and hardy yachts- 
 men ; of the sinewy pullers of oars and catchers and stoppers of balls. They 
 are brilliant examples of what the coming man may be ; who lives naturally, 
 avoids' stimulants, exercises all his powers and cultivates manly sports." 
 " Were a new edition of Beau Brummell possible," asks the writer, " could 
 he hold his own in Boston drawing rooms against Loring and Simmons ?" 
 
 The Chairman of the Standing Committee on Evening Schools in Provi- 
 dence, in a full and carefully prepared report recently presented to the School 
 Committee, makes the following complimentary allusion to the University, 
 which we transfer to the columns of the Brunonian : 
 
HOME MATTERS. 191 
 
 " Your Committee have been unusually fortunate in securing the services 
 of skillful and experienced teachers, so that the Board of Instruction as a 
 whole, has been quite equal, if not superior, to that of the day schools. And 
 here the Committee would acknowledge their indebtedness to Brown Univer- 
 sity, which has furnished for them four out of the six Principals, and eight out 
 of the fifteen male assistants. Many of the students who resort to our city for 
 a liberal education, are men of superior culture, who have taught more or less 
 in academies and schools. Were they to leave their studies to-day and en- 
 gage in teaching as a profession, they could command good salaries. The 
 presence, therefore, of a College among us, has contributed essentially to the 
 success of our evening Schools, enabling the Committee to obtain from year 
 to year a class of teachers of the highest order, and such as could not other- 
 wise be obtained for the limited compensation necessarily allowed for their 
 services. 
 
 Life is like a checker board, made up of dark spots and bright ones. The 
 dark ones are the corroding cares, the anxieties and failures daily encoun- 
 tered. The bright ones are a few green places we cherish in our memory of 
 by-gone happy hours. Some persons find none of the latter, merely from a 
 want of searching for them. They go through life, as Henry Ward Beecher 
 said of the Puritans, " always looking up; and never looking down, except to 
 find money or find fault." For the dark spots in our lives we have no need 
 to search ; they are ever present with us. But the bright ones need continual 
 polisliing and careful preservation. We love to linger around and dwell upon 
 them. They are like lighthouses throwing their rays far out into the gloom. 
 
 Some such thoughts as these came into our mind as we sat, one afternoon, 
 a few weeks since, at a window in Hope College looking out upon the front 
 Campus. Nature's spring fashions were beginning to show themselves, cov- 
 ering the ground with an emerald carpet and the trees with fresh green foliage. 
 It was one of those delightful days of opening spring when quiet reigns su- 
 preme, and all nature seems to lull to rest. Suddenly a wandering minstrel 
 invaded this sylvan scene, and began to pour forth from David's instrument 
 other tunes than those adapted to psalms. The windows of old Hope were 
 soon filled with eager listeners. The Senior forgot for the moment at what 
 epoch of history he had arrived ; the Junior laid aside his Tacitus and Plato ; 
 the Sophomore allowed himself to be beguiled from his essay ; and the Fresh- 
 man permitted the " Problem of the Lights " to become shrouded in darkness 
 again. But the music could not all be kept within the soul. It got down to 
 the heels of some of the more enthusiastic. And unsophisticated Freshmen 
 were amazed to see grave and reverend Seniors " trip the light fantastic toe." 
 It was an exhilarating scene, making the blood leap through the veins, not 
 only of the participants, but of all the lookers-on. We doubt if Mother 
 Brown ever witnessed such a scene before, at least for a quarter of a century 
 past. We want a few more such hearty demonstrations. They " drive dull 
 care away," and brush the cobwebs from the brain. They encourage one to 
 look upon the bright side of life and to bear its necessary burdens with a 
 cheerful spirit. And we may add, there is nothing the Devil hates more than 
 a good laugh and plenty of fun. Some of us are soon to leave these quiet 
 halls of learning where we have spent many happy hours. College days are 
 fast drawing to a close, and will ere long be remembered among the things 
 that were. We must soon mingle in the busy turmoil of life, and "bear the 
 heat and burden of the day." And if we have a few such choice recollections 
 4 
 
192 HOME MATTERS. 
 
 stored up in memory, to recall, when stern care has •wrinkled the brow, they 
 will help to make us young again, and turn our thoughts with pleasure back, 
 for a moment, to our College days. 
 
 We were sitting in a window at the President's reception, and we were talk- 
 ing in the most delightful manner about nothing at all ; and her pretty head 
 was bending and her light curls — no, crimps — were blowing about, and smiles 
 were chasing one another oyer her cheek with comical little dimples dancing 
 attendance on them, and her blue eyes were glancing — Oh ! how they were 
 glancing! All of a sudden, — "Keep still a minute," said she to the brunette 
 next her, " There's a caterpillar on you. I'll knock him off." " Ehee-e-e !" 
 screamed the victim, louder than any but a bold mortal would dare to scream 
 in the presence of so many dignified old books and imposing looking instru- 
 ments and such — " I hate the horrid things !" 
 
 " Once there was a little boy a good deal more charitable than you are,'> 
 said Blonde. "He was a very pious little boy and he liked to say his prayers, 
 and one day somebody overheard him saying them under the shrubbery in 
 the garden : ' God bless my father, and my mother, and teach me how to be 
 good,' said the little fellow, — here the caterpillars began to annoy him ex- 
 tremely, — 'and' — with a mighty effort — 'God bless these nasty, nasty 
 worrums !' " 
 
 " Oh !" said Brunette, " What a wicked awful story !" 
 
 " It's a.great deal wickeder to hate the poor innocent insects !" said Blonde, 
 conclusively. 
 
 " Well, I can't help it," said Brunette, obstinately. 
 
 And then we went up to be presented. 
 
 There was one occurrence in the recent match between the Brown and 
 Wesleyan Nines which deserves particular mention. A Brown man was run- 
 ning from first to second base, and the ball was thrown by the Wesleyan 
 catcher to second. The second base caught the ball and swinging his arm 
 round like lightning apparently touched the Brown man just a second before 
 he reached the base. But when the umpire decided the Brown man out, the 
 baseman called out that he had not quite touched him, and that he was not 
 out. Any one who ever became deeply interested in a match game knows the 
 rarity of such acts as this, as well as the amount of self-denial involved in it. 
 Such a thing is more of an honor to the Wesleyan University than beating 
 the game or beating a hundred base ball games could be. 
 
 We clip from a Western paper an account of a remarkable game at base 
 ball. The score was 209 to 10. The winning nine made 57 runs in the 7th 
 inning. Let us hope the Freshmen won't run across that nine. 
 
 Mr. Manchester has made some of the best pictures of the Class of '69 
 which could be imagined. The bungling work which many class Photogra- 
 phers have foisted off upon us in the past make us more anxious to render this 
 justice to our friend Mr. Manchester. 
 
 The thanks of the College, and especially of the Glee Club and the Bruno- 
 NiAN, are due to Mr. Geo. H. Whitney and the members of his establishment, 
 Mr. Tilden in particular, for uniform kindness, and accommodations. 
 
COLLEGIANA. 193 
 
 An unusual amount of Home Matters compels us to abridge somewhat our 
 budget of College news. We give our readers our second letter from Har- 
 vard, which will be read with interest. 
 
 HARVARD. — Dear Bkunonian : Since my last letter the absorbing topic 
 of conversation with us has been the approaching race with Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge. Replies have been received from both Universities, the former ac- 
 cepting definitely and the latter conditionally. There has been much discus- 
 sion as to the advisability of engaging in such a contest when an old crew had 
 been broken up, and Loring was out of training. After much canvassing and 
 some exhibitions of temper it was decided very definitely to row, picking our 
 best four for the international race, and the next best six for the contest with 
 Yale. Choice of men was the next consideration. Loring gallantly came 
 forward and offered to pull, and Simmons, though Captain of the crew, as gen- 
 erously offered him any position in the boat. He preferred the bow. Sim- 
 mons will consequently pull stroke. Rice of '71, will pull 3, and Bass of '71, 
 2. There is some talk of Willard and Rawle as substitutes, since the former 
 has resigned his captaincy of the Nine, but neither of them have the experience 
 or endurance of Rice or Bass. Williard, it is true, was one of the Freshman 
 '69 boat that beat the college, but he has rowed only one race si)ice, during 
 Junior year, when he went from the ball field to Boston by cars, entered a 
 shell for a 2nd crew race and won it. Rawle is a plucky man, with plenty of 
 bottom but no great experience in rowing. We have had some difficulty in 
 choosing a coxswain. Burnham of '70 seemed at first the most available man, 
 having considerable coolness, and being able to stand training He has been 
 out with the crew very often, but looks rather too large when in the boat. 
 Since a notice was put up at Commons for aspirants for the coxswainship to 
 apply at No. — , Mass., candidates innumerable have applied. A ninety-eight 
 pounder was found when stripped to the " buff"," but he has not been tried yet. 
 N. G. Read, of '71, has been chosen captain of the University crew, and is 
 trying the many candidates for the vacant places. 
 
 '71's crew is working up well for the June races, while the Scientifics, under 
 the command of Mr. Bayley, bid fair to repeat the dose of two years ago, and 
 beat the college. The Freshmen have good material for a crew but are sadly 
 in want of training. 
 
 In Ball, we have been victorious thus far, beating the Trimountains 49 to 
 12, on April 24th, and the Lowells on the 27th, 41 to 22. 
 
 Our Freshman have beaten the Somersets 35 to 15. 
 
 There have been a few scrub matches between the occupants of the diff"er- 
 ent entries of Gray's Hall, and the 2nd nine of the Junior class Las beaten the 
 1st by a score of 20 to 13. 
 
 The cantest with the Mutuals came off" on May 25th, and we were badly 
 beaten. In fact I have never seen our Nine play so poorly. Soule's pitching 
 astonished and amused the Mutuals. The score, 43 to 11, is sufficient. On 
 the next day the same club played with the Lowells. The latter played an 
 
194 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 excellent game, batting magnificently, and fielding in a most creditable man- 
 ner. The score was 26 to 21. 
 
 The Junior exhibition, whose death has been advertised for the past three 
 years, put in an appearance on the 4th inst. Out of thirty-four parts assigned 
 only ten were performed. The other " exhibitioners " were excused from the 
 honor of appearing in black dress coats and " orating" to their friends. 
 
 The recitation room of Prof. Gray was well filled with the fond mammas, 
 and sweethearts of the orators, while the "rollicking rabble " of students be- 
 sieged the doors. The only parts worthy of notice were the Latin Dialogue 
 from the Eunuchus of Terence by Messrs. Ladd and Healy, of '70. Willard 
 of '69's Essay on Lamartine, Walcott of '70's English version from Count 
 Gasparin, and Capen of '69's able written and gracefully delivered Disquisi- 
 tion on Chaucer's Treatment of Women. The exhibition was by no means a 
 farce as the Advocate intimates, as four excellent parts out of ten will testify. 
 Doctor Peabody seemed at loss in presiding, twice calling out in lingua 
 Latina for in Lingua vernacula. 
 
 It is not the fault of the students that the exhibitions are despised, but that 
 of our time-honored faculty. If they were held in the evening, and the stu- 
 dents had the reasonable prospect of an audience large enough to compensate 
 for the labor bestowed on the parts, or had we even the music which used to 
 delight our Freshman ears, there would be no talk of "the bore of exhibition." 
 Men that do well at these exhibitions are remembered, but there is no induce- 
 ment to do well. Who cares to bring one's friends to hear collegians speak 
 in a recitation room, when even the High and Latin School boys in Boston 
 declaim in the large Tremont Temple or Music Hall. It was only by petition 
 I understand, that the speakers for the Boylston Prizes for last year were al- 
 lowed to speak in the first church instead of the third story of the University, 
 amid rafters and primary school desks. Then, too, it was only the erroneous 
 announcement of a Phi Beta Kappa Poem, that filled the church and stimula- 
 ted the speakers. 
 
 The Seniors are busy with preparations for Class Day, and the prospects 
 are that we shall have a gala day. 
 
 'Sixty-Nine has been an able and popular class, distinguishing itself in 
 Scholarship, in Boating, and on the Ball field. 
 
 The College has again been groaning over its poverty, and the corporation 
 have wisely { ?) determined to remedy the deficit by increasing the tuition and 
 the rent of Holworthy Hall, (the Seniors' Paradise.) The result is much dis- 
 satisfaction among the lower classes, and hard swearing among the Juniors, 
 who are all at sea in regard to the choice of rooms. Many men who are able 
 to pay the expense, refusing to go into the Holworthy. This, of course, disar- 
 ranged the plans of aspiring Juniors, which, like those of mice, " Gang aft a- 
 gley." This last move upon the part of our overseers, corporation or whoever 
 is responsible, reminds one forcibly of some Congressional legislation a few 
 years ago on the taxation question. We have been safely told, and the figures 
 produced, that it costs the college so much more to educate us than we pay 
 her, consequently the more students she has the poorer she becomes, a process 
 of reasoning which every patriotic son of Harvard dares not carry out to its 
 logical sequence. As if indeed, the students of any college ever did meet the 
 expenses of their education entirely ! We have our doubts whether Oxford 
 
 i 
 
COLLEGIANA. 195 
 
 or Cambridge or any German University ever expected any such absurdity. 
 On the contrary, the most popular institutions and those that have done the 
 most good have a mere nominal tuition. This rise in the tuition and the rent 
 of certain rooms, appears more absurd when we consider that the class fund 
 is rapidly increasing and promises soon to be available. 
 
 The most entertaining thing lately was the private theatricals given by the 
 Hasty Pudding Society, for the benefit of the Harvard crew. It was a bur- 
 lesque on Romeo and Juliet, written by Messrs. Childs and Pickering of '69. 
 It was attended by " a large and fashionable audience," who applauded enthu- 
 siastically. And the entertainment deserved it. The acting was admirable, 
 Messrs. Childs, Bowditch and Cook carrying off the palm. One of the most 
 laughable features was the introduction of " the Four " on the stage. Sounds 
 like the steps of elephants were heard, and in came four little boys, carrying 
 miniature oars. They had on the uSual thin shirt without sleeves, and Ma- 
 genta handkerchiefs about their heads. At the call of " coxswain," Mr. Grant 
 of '69, came in dressed in the same sort of costume. This gentleman weighs 
 about two hundred and twenty-five, and is nearly six feet in height. The 
 effect may be imagined. Hail Columbia a la P. J., by the Pierian Sodality, — 
 which burlesqued the approaching big concert, — was very funny indeed. 
 
 The Bowdoin Prizes are announced as follows : 
 
 Senior Class. — Mr. Gustavus Goward, a first prize for a dissertation on The 
 Reform Act of 1832 and that of 1867. In the same class, Mr. Wm. Davis 
 Mackintosh, a second prize, on The History, the Nature and the Obligation 
 of our National Debt. 
 
 In the Junior Class, Mr. James Russell Soley gained the first prize, on the 
 Future of the Papacy. In the same class, Mr. Frederic Wadsworth Loring 
 gained the second prize, on The Genuineness of Shakspeare's Plays. 
 
 Our annual examinations commence on the 5th of June, and last until the 
 24th. 
 
 The Everett Athenaeum, a new open Sophomore Society, which was started 
 last year by '71, is to give a public meeting on their last night. The Society 
 has gained much favor with the Faculty on account of its literary character. 
 Their programme is : — Music, Glee Club ; Select Reading, The School of Art, 
 J. Reynolds; An Oration, Independence of Thought, H. E. Deming. Music, 
 Glee Club ; Debate, Ought the Clerical Profession to be open to women ? — 
 Afllrm., J. H. Wheeler, W. C. Larned— Neg., K. Mcintosh, T. M. Osborne. 
 Music, Glee Club ; Poem, M. H. Simpson, Jr. ; President's Address, W. W. 
 Boyd ; Ode, J. R. Walter. 
 
 On the same evening the Pi Eta Society give a burlesque on Macbeth at 
 their rooms. It is said to be quite extravagant, but as it is only open to its 
 present and past members, I am not able to write about it. On this occasion 
 the '69 members take their farewell. 
 
 There was a match game of base ball between the Junior members of the 
 Pudding, and the Junior members of the Pi Eta. The latter were victors 18 
 to 13. 
 
 The latest intelligence is that Willard and Rawle go back to the Nine. 
 
 Qoivis. 
 
196 COLLEGIANA. 
 
 BOWDOIN. We learn from an exchange that " for more than a year the 
 Faculty of Bowdoin has not discovered a single case of intemperance among 
 the students." Whether this is owing to the superior craftiness of the stu- 
 dents, or the inefficiency of the Faculty, deponent sayeth not. 
 
 DARTMOUTH. The Dartmouth lately spoke of "The glorious triad of New 
 England Universities, Harvard, Yale and Dartmouth." The score of Dart- 
 mouth in the recent match with Harvard was to 38. One stupendous goose 
 egg. Harvard is rather hard on her sister in the glorious triad. Some little 
 college like Williams or Brown even might get oflp better than that. 
 
 EXCHANGES. — Magazines : Yale Lit, The Dartmouth, College Days, 
 Index Universitalis, Griswold Collegian, Michigan Univeo'sity Magazine. 
 
 Papers. — Home Jou7-nal, Yang Lang, Harvard Advocate, Amherst Stu- 
 dent, The College Argus, Trinity Tablet, Cornell Era, University Chronicle, 
 University Reporter, Indiana Student, Eureka College Vidette, The Miami 
 Student, The Campus, Journal of Education. 
 
 The Campus comes to us very much improved in form, and is generally a 
 very neat and creditable paper. 
 
 The Miami Student has been added to the list of our Exchanges. We bid 
 it welcome. 
 
 The Beloit College Monthly also reaches us for the first time. Its exterior 
 resembles the Atlantic Monthly, but its interior differs somewhat. If the pa- 
 per on which it is printed were a trifle better it would be improved in appear- 
 ance. 
 
 The Yale Lit for May comes to us under the auspices of the Class of '70. 
 We confess to some degree of disappointment at the maiden effort of the new 
 board. The article, " Secret Societies," is the only one that is up totheii^s 
 standard. Little is gained by such sensational captions as "Knee-Breeches," 
 " Rats," and " Old China," while both dignity and tone are sacrificed by the 
 introduction of so rank a piece of Bohemianism as the " New Comedy of an 
 Old Error." Surely the staid old Lit cannot dance with the wanton Satyrs 
 without loss of dignity. 
 
 Perhaps we are too critical. The last board has catered so delicately to 
 our palate during the past year, that we may have become the most fastidious 
 of epicures. We have no doubt that the new board will sustain the high rep- 
 utation of the magazine. 
 
 We learn from the Harvard Advocate that the Theatricals which came off 
 May 28th and 29th, for the benefit of the Harvard Four Oar Crew, resulted in 
 a clear gain of $1,202.03. 
 
 The Students of Brown University have followed the example of '69 and 
 planted an Elm for a Class tree. — University Chronicle. 
 
 The old custom of planting an Elm at Brown University on Class Day did 
 not originate quite so far west as the Chronicle. f\ <iP 
 

 
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