Editor's Table.

"To men of letters, traveling is a means of knowledge; to men of taste, of accomplishment; to the idle, a relief from ennui; to the busy, a rest from labor; to the sorrowful, a refuge from grief;" a truth to which the patriotic six will all subscribe. We might tell you how and when we traveled, and all about the scenes of terror and danger through which we passed, and the hardships we endured, from that first night on which we made a forcible entrance into the schoolhouse at Readville, and slept hard upon the bare benches, to the lulling music of mosquito swarms, to the time when, our term of service having expired, we cast a last, long, lingering look on the hulks of our army shoes, rotting on the boundless prairies of the West, and set our faces Eastward. But we have all exercised a laudable selfcontrol, and here we announce to the world, and to posterity, that six members of the Senior Class, including two Editors, spent nearly five months in the army, and returned to their several duties, without writing for the LIT. a single account of their campaign, or even mentioning to the reading public the many battles and sieges in which they took part. We are sure that when posterity sees this token of noble reserve and modesty, there will be a grand searching among the records for the names of the then immortal six. This modesty may seem to some altogether gratuitous, but, on the whole, it is somewhat becoming and proper. For our own part, having bridled our tongue so long a time in the presence of shoulder-strapped dig. nity, having been hailed so often with "Be you a soldier or a hundred-day man ?” having been shown so invariably to the lowest seats in church and the highest rooms at hotels; having been invited so many times to drink with the scaliest possible fellows in the meanest possible saloons, and having dodged so frequently around corners, at the sight of some familiar face, while vainly attempting, by vigorous pulling, to make the old blouse come down as far as to where coat tails ought to begin, we finally arrived at the conclusion, that we were a very useless and insignificant individual. In fact, after being out long enough, we began to feel rather honored at any notice, even from Pompey, the colored cook, (the one spoken of by the poet, as "The Pomp of war,)" and, at the last, we were very willing to slip back, quietly and humbly into our old seat, and leave the story of our exploits untold.

But to return from this long digression. Our travels, such as they were, and however taken, terminated in the big city, called by its inhabitants, Injunoppo.

lis;

and the knowledge at which, being men of letters, we arrived was this, that as, according to the true blue theology, some men are created for the express purpose of showing to the world of what depths of iniquity man is capable, and of being used, at the last, as a fearful warning, so some communities are allowed to exist, in order to show what villainies the world, if left to itself, can produce.

"I nev"That

Here is the way they talk in that benighted neighborhood. "I have saw where you was goin at," and "I have went where you couldn't git to go." er seen" any man have "such a right smart git," as me and him did." there man there, what owns this shebang," "wounded his watch up," "onet or

แ

twict," "just like I do mine," &c. Here is the way they drill. Keep your feet a movin, ready to do as ye did yistday,—git." "From four strings into two-git." "turn around sideways, and go off in a crosswise direction-git."

This is the station at which one-third of the volunteers make their mark on their enlistment papers; where some of the commissioned officers can neither read nor write; where one man asked, in all honesty, if Massachusetts was not the worst copperhead State in the Union; and another, if the same State was not in the South; and where the women never wash their dresses, cause why, they are made of linsey-woolsey, and their husbands whip 'em clean."

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In former times, an election was not considered legal here, unless at least threefourths of the voters were shown to have been drunk on election day. This was when Corn Whiskey was twenty-five cents a gallon. Since then, the government has taxed it, to several times that amount, and the price is so high, that no election can now be properly conducted. It was this gross interference with the domestic institutions of the State, which caused the organization of that self-defensive body called the "Sons of Liberty." At present, in elections, every man who is on hand at the proper time, votes once for himself, once for each of his friends in the army, and once for each of his dead and absent neighbors. The utility of this system is, thus expressed in their own classic tongue. "By how more often a man gits in a ballot, by so more much the majority gits bigger." It should be remarked here, that the only two classes of men who ever could rival them in this game, were Missouri Border Ruffians and Massachusetts' soldiers.

But to return to a respectable subject. We have been much exercised, lately, at the literary dearth in College. Every one acknowledges that there is but a small amount of literary work done in the Societies, large or small; and, judging from their style, the term compositions and disputes cannot exhaust the talents of the undergraduates. The surplus and dormant powers should seek space for their active exercise in the LIT. There is no lack of subjects for Magazine composition. In accordance with the general disposition to be censorious and sarcastic, why has no one tried to embrace the whole circle of College foibles in the Diary of an aspiring Freshman, or of a belligerent Sophomore; of a political Junior, and of an arrogant Senior? Why have we not received something searching and witty about snubs, or something cutting and satiric about snobs; something severe and sermoniac on skinning, or heterodox and startling on the inconvenience of truth? Why has no one given an illustrative grumble at College grumblers, or an account, humorous and sharp, of the various styles of Literary men in College, with specimens of Sophomore compositions, Junior disputes, and the style of poetry generally sent to the LIT. Why have we had no critical review of Gail Hamilton's "New Atmosphere?" (as fair a mark for satire as ever old maid presented.) Why has no one shown the beauties of Butler, with notes of a recitation? Why cannot some one treat of the rhetorical attractiveness of Spalding, or the connection between Stewart and mental feebleness? Why, in fine, do not more students write for the LIT.

Some of our readers heard the Prize Debates this term. Perhaps they did not all overhear this little dialogue:

Scene--Brothers Hall.

Present-Two Freshmen.

Enter First Prize man,-in a swallow-tail.

Loquitur First Freshman, ẞown and curious, "What a queer looking coat! Has he got the tails turned in!"

Second Freshman, blandly-"Why no, that is a dress coat. It was made so." First Freshman, resignedly—" Oh!”

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To Correspondents.

“Thanksgiving, 1864,” is quite readable, but it bears internal evidence of having been produced in a Female Boarding Scholl. The LIT. is intended for a College Magazine. Concerning Rings," shows a melancholy perversion of a naturally feeble imagination. We have, charitably, thrown both the production and the unopened envelope, containing the name, into the old cylinder stove.

Back Numbers Wanted.

Cash will be paid, at 34 South Middle, for one copy of each of the following Numbers of the LIT. Vol. 27, No. 5; Vol. 28, Nos. 1 and 4; for two copies each of Vol. 29, Nos. 1, 2 and 7, and for three copies of Vol. 29, No. 8.

Exchanges.

We have received the Atlantic regularly; also the Nassau Quarterly for October and December; and the Beloit College Monthly for December. The appearance of the Nassau Quarterly is much improved by its new dress.

We have received a specimen copy of "Our Young Folks," a Magazine for Boys and Girls, Edited by J. T. Trowbridge, Gail Hamilton and Lucy Larcom, and published by Ticknor & Fields. It seems to be an excellent Magazine for youthful minds, and we heartily recommend it to certain juvenile members of the Freshman Class, and to those Seniors who intend to "settle" immediately after graduation.

Advertisements.

Of course you will not lay aside the LIT. until you have looked over the advertisements; and having read them, employ Franklin for your Merchant Tailor, and Duncan to engrave your Visiting Cards. Go to Blair's for your Furnishing Goods, to the world-renowned Kingsley's for your ready-made clothing; to Judd & White's cheap store for Books and Albums; to Cutler & Bradley's for Engravings and Frames, and to Watson's for those finishing touches which only a barber can give to your personal appearance.

"Don't talk to me about history, for I know that to be false," said Sir Robert Walpole. Whatever of truth there is in the satire of this remarkable man, the world has yet failed to discover. It is doubtless true that history is full of errors, and that its facts in their relations of cause and effect, are better understood, when time has worked its wonderful changes with institutions and men alike. Bancroft says "It is not history which is treacherous, but hasty writers who are credulous and careless." Add to this the almost irresistible influence of sympathy and prejudice, and it is easy to see how writers may fail in that which gives history its chiefest value. Independence of assertion, fearless advocacy of an unpopular cause, or a defense of men who are either behind, or in advance of public opinion, calls for courage of the highest kind. If, however, this independence, whether of speech or judgment, comes to be a mere love of opposition, it develops the most disagreeable traits, and renders a man incapable of dealing rationally with any question whatever. Especially is this true of men when treating of great moral questions. For prejudice and passion then give a wrong coloring to opinions, which may have their foundation in morality and right.

In viewing the glorious period of the revolution, how few have set forth with anything like truthfulness, the position and character of the American loyalists. Who has not been taught that Tory was but

another name for dastard and felon? This is right. The infamy and crime of Toryism cannot be palliated. No words are hot or burning enough to express the detestation which the patriot feels toward those who draw the sword against their native land. But the adherents of the crown were not all Tories. And all who were strenuous in opposition to war, who labored to avert it, and left no lawful means untried to calm the troubled waters which began to be stirred to their very depths, all such, were not of the low and desperate character of ruffians and freebooters. The brutal deeds which the tories committed, the infamy which covers their memory to-day, cannot be imputed to very many who only gave their sympathies to the crown. This does not seem so heinous a crime when it is remembered how strong are the ties of blood and religion. The nature of the contest, moreover, was not understood. And still less was the result apprehended. The moral grandeur of the struggle was not seen in its inception. So the wisest among us could not measure the stupendous proportions of the present war, or even faintly conceive of that marvelous revolution in ideas, which is still going on.

When trouble first began to brood over the Colonies, none foresaw that it would lead to independence. Throughout the length and breadth of the land, separation was regarded as the greatest calamity which could befall the Colonies. Indeed, so general and strong was the attachment to the crown, so utterly hopeless any attempt at resistance, that the most lion-hearted could not but look upon the venture as the sheerest madness. The prestige and power of England were enough to make the stoutest quail. Even John Jay said that "the revolution was a subject on which honest men might differ." He and his noble compeers allowed the largest latitude of opinion, even upon this most vital subject. There was virtue in loyalty, when it had its springs in a sincere conviction that resistance was hopeless and would bring only defeat and ruin. Nor does it follow that there was no honor in rebellion. It is only asserted that all who favored rebellion were not disinterested and virtuous, and, on the other hand, their opponents were not, to a man, vicious and wicked. The cause of independence, lofty as it was in its aims, did not transform men into angels. There were bad men among the patriots, and there were good men among the loyalists. To be a Unionist to day may cover a multitude of sins; but even patriotism is powerless to change the nature of one given over to the unrestrained indulgence of a beastly habit. Like all good causes, the cause of independence lost much by the rashness and intolerance of its advocates. The cause of America and human freedom