dark lanterns, issued at a late hour from the building, and were next seen in proximity to York Square, Crown street, or Grove Hall. From cessation of all music in their absence, and the prevalence of boquets on the next day in the College, it would not be difficult to infer their errand or the meaning of the musical enthusiasm. As the winter came on, sleigh-rides took the place of boating; skating and coasting parties were as frequent as the former picnics, and the white crusting of the hills on Tutor's lane and Sachem's wood, crunched to the pressure of the gliding runner, the smooth surface of Lake Saltonstall was creased in a thousand places by the sharp steel of the skater, and bore often the light weight of ladies as they were drawn,swiftly over it on the handsleds of the gallant Juniors. Winter passed by as to all appearance it is always passing in "the third year," full of life and merriment, and with more association in the world outside the College. Archy's bill at Fowler's for Cologne and cardamon was unlimited, and his patronage of Lutz and Ryan carried to an extent almost alarming. It was quite surprising how frequent upon Wednesday and Saturday afternoons his steps tended down street to the Post, and how often upon his arrival there, it became necessary to return in search of something to the College. If he was thus compelled to meet more frequently ladies and boarding schools on their shopping expeditions, surely, though a strange coincidence, it could be by no means an intention. There were envious people who, however, thought it might be, and it needed not the polite attentions of our friend, as a member of the Spoon Committee, to crushed bonnets and lost slippers on the evening of the "annual jam," to procure for him the name, among many, of a ladies' man. His letters home soon abounded in mysterious allusions. Yet, in answer to the frequent inquiries of Constance, "who she was?" and what he meant by "being possibly surprised," his replies were more carefully indefinite and incomprehensible. Rumor among classmates had however settled it, that a pair of black eyes at Grove Hall had completely "smashed" him. When, at the close of Junior year, the owner of the black eyes spending the vacation eastward, Braxton found it necessary to see something of New England, doubt was banished, and the handsome Georgian was pronounced "engaged." Was he? (To be continued.) Charge of the 56th. WITH a crash, with a smash, Into Biennial hall, Rushed the bold hundred. Into Biennial hall, Rushed the bold hundred, For up came an order which, Rushed the bold hundred. "Forward the Soph Brigade !" No man was there dismayed, Not though the Juniors said They flunked and blundered: They did not make reply, Into Biennial hall, Rushed the bold hundred. Tutors to right of them, Tutors to left of them, Tutors in front of them, Looked on and wondered. For when the Chapel bell Into the mouth of Hell, Rushed the bold hundred. Flashed all their weapons bare, Flashed all their pens in air, Wasting the paper there, All the Profs. wondered; Plunged in the classic smoke, Tutors to right of them, Tutors behind them, Spouted and thundered; When can their glory fade? The Tutor's Ghost. On the fly-leaf of an old copy of Puffendorf's Law of Nature, in the College Library, is the following memorandum : "Be it known that on the 22nd day of April, 1799, the members of Yale College had the following exellent dinner in the hall of said College, viz: Baked Shad stufed with white Beens."* I mentioned this circumstance one evening to an old graduate of Yale, with whom I chanced to be passing part of the last vacation. 66 Speaking of beans," said he, " reminds me of a queer story which was somewhat current in my college days. A Ghost-Story in which the aforesaid vegetable played quite a part. Did you ever hear it ?” *This inscription can be verified by a reference to the volume. There are two copies of Puffendorf. It is in the oldest; we have transcribed it literatim, and are not responsible for the orthography. "Not to my knowledge,” said I, and expressed an earnest wish to be enlightened upon the subject. So he told me the following story, which I jot down for the benefit of those who may be in the same state of ignorance in which I was. "It was a great many years ago, before the American Revolution, before the old College laws were done away, that the event I narrate took place. Among those old laws was one requiring a constant use of the Latin language in rendering excuses, and in common conversation, so far as practicable. It is said that even at the College commons the conversation was carried on for the most part in Latin. "Of course a word or two of English could be pardoned from the undergraduates, or at least from the three lower class; while Seniors. and Tutors were expected to discourse in the pure Ciceronian tongue. It is said the term Hog-Latin had its origin from a frightened Fresh man, who wishing a slice of pork, asked for it in the following terms: 'Da mihi slice of hoggum;' but I connot vouch for the authenticity of the anecdote. "The advent of a new tutor was then, as well as in my time, regarded with considerable curiosity, especially by those who were under his particular charge. His antecedents were most carefully discussed. His stand in his class ascertained. Various anecdotes of his college course circulated, and in short, a complete inventory made of his qualifications, social and mental. “At the time of which I am speaking, there was a much better opportunity afforded for ascertaining the character of the tutor, than when I was in College, or, I presume, even at the present. He took his meals at the commons with the students. They heard him discourse upon the weather, or touch upon the news of the day, all in Latin. Woe be to the tutor who made a mistake in speaking. Some of the critics would be sure to notice it, and there was no peace for the erring. "It was the commencement of a new year, that the event occurred, to which I have made such a long preamble. One of the old tutors had accepted a call to preach, and a new one had taken his place. A meek and lamb-like look had the new tutor. He scarcely ever was seen to smile. He spoke in a voice weak and tremulous, as if afraid of its own echo. He had a leg not much bigger than a corpulent broom-stick. His body was thin and lank. But his head, by its size, seemed to atone for the smallness of the rest of his frame. As it was the fashion then to wear tight-fitting silk stockings and breeches, and a cocked hat, you may perhaps imagine the figure our hero made in the streets. He resembled an animated pair of tongs surmounted by a huge pumpkin. The first sentiment the students felt for him was pity. But this was quickly dispelled, for they soon learned that in the recitation room, he had no pity for them. Then they sought an opportunity of ridiculing him. It was not long in coming. "During the first week of his tutorship he had not scarcely dared to speak at the table for fear of blundering in his Latin. What little he did say was uttered in so low a tone that no one could hear him. What he wished was learned more from his looks than from his words. But practice emboldened him. He ventured a remark or two about the weather which were unexceptionable. He talked politics in language worthy of old Rome. At last, however, he failed, and such a failure! "It was bean-day, that is to say, Saturday. The new tutor had taken a long walk and came in a little late to dinner. The senior tutor, who carved, was busily talking with his neighbor, and did not notice his quiet entrance. He sat a moment or two, and then, as he was very hungry, by reason of his long walk, ventured to pass his plate. He asked for what he wished in a low tone. The senior tutor did not. hear. Again he spoke, in a louder key, and the students were still that they might hear him. He saw their eyes all fixed upon him and he became embarrassed. The blood rushed to his face. He could not think of what he wished to say. "Da' said he, and cleared his throat as if something had suddenly fallen into it. “Da mihi,' and stopped to cough by way of gaining time to think. The Latin name of beans had fled his treacherous memory. Just then the senior tutor turned and saw him sitting there. 66 6 'Quid velis?' asked he. brow of the big-headed tutor. The big drops of sweat stood on the big to confess ignorance. There was no resource but to speak English. So he answered 666 'BEANS.' "The senior tutor dropped his knife in deep astonishment. He had long presided at that table, and had never before heard a word of English from a tutor. The momentous consequences of such an event were not to be calculated. The example to the rising generation seated at the table with him, the encouragement it would afford them to use common English instead of classic Latin, all flashed upon his |