tencies, which cultivated understandings seize upon with avidity, those broad strokes of the humorous, at which the peasant laughs outright.

He descended to no low ribaldry, for the true poetry of chivalry which animated his soul, shrunk back from its unholy touch, but by a universality of tact, he gained the ear, and won the heart of a large and proud nation. Thus did Cervantes leave a mark upon his age, and the work showed his strong faith in what is most valued in our nature. But the impulses of his nature could not be walled in by the limits of a century; he discerned other follies than those peculiar to his own age, and has left for every eccentricity of human nature, an appropriate rebuke; to correct the temporary errors of his countrymen, was his one idea, but with an almost prophetic judgment, he wrote for all times.

Satire against local conventionalisms, rarely survives its sting; against principles, it is coëxistent with them. Cervantes ridiculed causes, not accidental effects; hence his good-natured irony, though somewhat blunted by translation into foreign tongues, is relished by all nations even to this day. Moreover, the portrait of his age, which, with vivid fidelity, he has painted, partakes of the nature of sober history. He entered home circles and depicted the every-day manners of the people, thus improving upon the gravity of history, which deals mainly in majestic facts. Thus he makes us his debtors!

But have the claims of this great creditor of his own and succeeding times, been duly appreciated! The traveler in Spain, vainly seeks some stately mausoleum, on which to hang the garland of honest appreciation, for Cervantes needs no such monument! his body sleeps as it lived, in obscurity; but the record of his efforts and his success, will ever remain a part of his country's history. Every earnest scholar then, must feel with Cervantes, that talent misapplied is worse than insignifiance, but that the moral grandeur of independent integrity of motive, is the sublimest thing in nature, before which, the pomp of sepulchral magnificence and the splendor of a name, are odious as well as perishable.

A. S. T.

The Collegian's Topics for Writing.

"I'll write it straight;

The matter's in my head, and in my heart."

As You Like It.

Ir has been said, that in no place do men study more, but think less, than in College. This is not true; but its falsity is not half so glaring as it ought to be. It finds plausible support, partly in that foolish dissociation of study and thought, whereby the former is connected with the repetitions of the recitation room, in the relation of cause to effect, and the latter only with the stolen joys of general reading; and partly in the miserable selection so often made of topics for writing.

It is plain that the character of a mind is indicated by its choice of subjects. What, then, are the subjects which engage the thoughts and pens of College students ?—and what ought they to be? Of course, it would be pleasing to find the answers to these two questions identical; and on the supposition that they are so, we need not dwell long on the first. One source of information respecting it, is found in the programmes of the public exercises of the Colleges; another, in the magazines supported by the students; and another in the various literary society exercises fulfilled by the same. Examining the data derived from these sources, giving special attention to the first, we must say that the topics are not, in general, worthy of the Collegian's position. They appear to have their origin either in some Catalogue of Themes," or in the common sentiment of mankind." Only here and there you can point to a theme, and say that it arose from the vigorous thinking of the claimant's mind.

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It is not within our present scope to consider the general character of productions attached to such themes. Sometimes an old or foreign theme becomes vital in the hands of him who ought to let it alone; but morė commonly, he who chooses his subject anywhere but in his own thoughts, will choose his ideas to match it in the same place.

We will now notice the Collegian's topics in two aspects-the difficulties, and facilities, which attend their selection. In the first place they are somewhat restricted. Practical subjects are mostly to be passed over by the student's pen: for, so far as his studies are concerned, they do not make such familiar to his mind; and in the forensic disputations of the societies, these are discussed, if not with thoroughness, at least to satiety. Everything of a practical nature, from the laws of Solon to the

last morsel of annexed territory, is there disposed of. Nor, if these objections were removed, would such topics be desirable. To fellow-students they are not interesting; nor, if they were, would the writer's opinion be much valued on matters of legislative or diplomatic policy, and the like; while out of College his opinion is neither valued nor known. We consider, then, that the time spent by the student in making such contributions to College literature is a perfect waste. This is one restriction.

Again, subjects purely scientific are excluded from our list; and for the obvious reason, that we cannot do them justice. Facts and truths which would, indeed, startle the ignorant vulgar, in College are as familiar as the morning salutation. Useless, therefore, would be the attempt to clothe these with interest, and what can we hope in original investigation? Alas, for the spindling theory of the Collegian, beneath the overshadowing attainments of professional research.

We might mention more restrictions. In general, they are such as arise from the student's circumstances, and stage of advancement in education, and they often make themselves felt as serious difficulties in choosing subjects.

In the second place, the College student is prevented from a wide acquaintance with cotemporaneous literature. This is produced by the pressure of regular studies, and the necessity which he is under of acquiring a large amount of history, and historical literature. In this way a great number of appropriate topics are excluded from his mind.

A third difficulty is found in the prevailing notion that original thought is not within the capacity of an undergraduate student. How many are there who listen to a College oration, or take up a College magazine, with the expectation of finding anything essentially new? This question is present to the writer's mind when he selects his theme. All that is expected of him, is that he will take up some common topic, and make the best possible show upon it. He does so, and has the satisfaction of feeling that in this respect he is on a level with most of his fellows. Whether the notion that constitutes this difficulty can be removed, may be doubted; but while it exists, it robs the College-world of even attempts at new and brilliant topics for writing.

We turn now to the other side, and glance at the facilities afforded to the College-writer for the selection of topics. In the first place, he is not rigidly called to account for the positions he may advance. We would not connive at recklessness in advancing opinions; but who cannot see that we, who are only forming our minds in these mental gymnasia, stand

very differently, in regard to responsibility of opinion, from those who are more strictly "in the world?" Thus, the Collegian has a license with the pen, which he will possess but a short time, and which may be made to contribute largely to the variety and richness of his whole mental store. What if a too bold advance may require to be retraced? His returning footsteps may be strewn with the fruits that he snatched on the very confines of forbidden ground.

Again during the most of his course, the Collegian is studying that which is suggestive of varied and suitable topics. The College-course, we grant, is not usually so regarded. By some, it is thought antagonistic to everything voluntary, or original. But why should this be so? We have specimens of everything curious and instructive in mythology, history, and antiquities; we investigate the formation and peculiarities of languages; we study the models of all literature; and trace the abstruse theories of metaphysicians. Now, why may not these things be productive, in our minds, of enlivening thought and criticism, and curious speculation? At no other period of our lives, will so many rays of thought concenter in our path. The professional man writes of things connected with his profession, because in this all his thoughts have their embryos; the student has for his suggesting power those treasures which are applied alike to all professions.

But close beside College-studies, stands College-life, to furnish themes for the writer. Here is a wide field left to us entirely, and yet but poorly occupied. There ought to be more writing, which derives its existence from our own life, not from everything beside. There ought to be something emanating from the College mind, which shows what it is, and what it is doing; while the throbbing of a student's heart ought to give to our literature a warmth and character which it does not yet fully possess. The student, while in College, should write like a student, not like a statesman, nor like a stump-orator, and he should choose his topics accordingly; and when, at graduation, he makes his final exhibition of scholastic thought, his theme, as well as his thoughts, should show that for four years he has been a Collegian.

L. S. P.

Indian Summer.

INDIAN Summer, mild and mellow,
Gentle vesper of the year-
In her robes of crimson yellow,
Queen of Autumn's festive cheer-
Held awhile the rolling seasons
Motionless in dreamy rest,
As though each in low obeisance
Waited on her high behest-
For their beauties all she blended
In her own Elysian hours:
On her forest's boughs descended
Richest tints of Vernal flowers,
Whose gay painter-Winter furnished
In the clear Autumnal nights-
By whose matchless brush were burnished
Streamers fair of "Northern Lights."
Every clustered grove was studded

With its wreathes of gorgeous dyes,
Glist'ning in the light which flooded
Softly from the arching skies,
Like some rich and rare selection
From the Raphaels of old,
Mellowing to ripe perfection,

As the circling years have rolled.
Till the blended hues seem plundered
From the blush of sunset clouds;
And the gazing spirit wondered
At the Soul the canvas shrouds.

All the drowsy air is sleeping,

As it were but Summer noon, When the Harvesters are reaping;

Or when 'neath the round, full moon Silence-Night's enchanted warderWith her wand of silver sheen Spreads her dim and mystic border

O'er the star-enraptured sceneScarce the Aspan leaf is ruffled

Scarce the lakes' fair bosom heaves, And with footfalls softly muffled,

Glide the streams o'er fallen leaves.