It seems that, as our author

Was retiring for the night, His friend came in to see him With footsteps soft and light.

Imagine his amazement, .
Admiration, and surprise
To see his gifted classmate
Staring hard with both his eyes

At his image fair reflected

From the mirror's silver sheen, Habited by frugal nature

In costume scant but clean.

This way and that he poses;
Attitudes are full of grace,
And the splendor of his beauties
Brings a smile upon his face.

But he hears the creaking hinges; Views his friend with sore afright;

Imitating chaste Diana,

Safety seeks in instant flight.

German as She is Taught

The scene is laid in No. 11, Hopkins. The Junior division of German II files in and discovers the instructor, Professor Badpoor, pacing the floor in expectation. The members take their seats, and those in the back row immediately sink into slumber. The recitation should have begun five minutes ago, and still Professor Badpoor waits. At last Brotherston arrives; instructor greets him with a handshake, takes his coat and hat, escorts him to his seat, and finds the place in the book for him.

The recitation opens with a discussion of a list of words written on the board. Says Badpoor, "The first word, Bauchweh, is a very important word and is the common, ordinary word for Badpoor." Doc Mears grins and Badpoor's first tear arrives. They go on through the list without interruption except that when Badpoor announces the word Wein, D. P. Smith, asleep in the back row, wakes up enough to announce, "Gimme the same."

Class then takes up the day's assignment of "Will He Tell." Says Badpoor, "This lesson should not have taken anybody over seven hours in preparation. Mr. H. Mears, do you think it too long?"

"Yes, sir."

"No, it is by no means too long; you did not find it so, did you, Mr. McMillan?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well, the lesson was rather too long.

However, let us attack it."

The first recitation is poor. Says Badpoor, "I've come here many times when I should otherwise have been still in bed, in order that the class might not miss the beauty of this glorious poem; but I'm not coming here to waste my time on you any more." Class grins in expectation of many cuts.

"Continue, Mr. Rice."

"This is as far as I got."

"Go on, Mr. Smith."

"Have n't read it."

"Mr. Millener take it."

"Not prepared."

"Mr. Rice, how much time did you spend on it?"

"Four hours."

"Totally inadequate. How much did you, Mr. Smith?"

"None at all."

"And you, Mr. Millener?" "Have n't looked at it."

"Gentlemen, what this college needs more than anything else is a deep literary appreciation of the Tell. I see you have n't got it. My patience has been wonderfully tried with this division; you may be excused. The next thousand lines for next time."

Class files out, murmuring "What Tell?"

(N. B. This method of teaching German is adopted as the best after twenty years' experience.)

The True Williams Spirit or how I Won My W

Well, men, I've come here to get you ready for the game. Your committee has picked me out as probably the best example of the real Williams. man that has ever graduated; that ain't all-somehow, it ain't becoming for me to say how; they have got on to the fact that I'm the best expositor of the true Williams spirit within a radius of a hundred miles, and so they have asked me to come in here to-night and expose it. I am glad to do it for two reasons; first, because I made a hit with a speech once way back in 189- and I want to see if I can't do it again, secondly, because I'm out of college now and can call the Faculty any kind of embalmed beef that suits my taste. As for exposing the true Williams spirit,-I feel that I can do it. It'll take me some time to get warmed up to the 99 per cent. pure state, but it 'll be worth waiting for. I might say before I go on that the janitor will furnish all that can't see the point of my jokes with laughing gas.

Now, in the first place, you fellows have got to get rid of a lot of notions about what's right and what 's wrong or we'll never win that game. There ain't no such thing as right and wrong about this business. You 're either

there with the goods or you ain't there. Religion and ethics and all that sort of rot is well enough in its way but it can't touch me and it's got no more to do with football than the microbes that gnaw on the coffin varnish of the mummy of Rameses I! [Loud applause from Esau's gladiators]. You pay attention to what I tell you; this is no joke. I know what I'm talking about if no one else does. You say you haven't got the money to go to the game? Well, get it! If you can't borrow it, BEG it, if you can't beg it, STEAL it!! That's the true Williams spirit! Why if I had a boy, I'd a hundred times rather seen him climb through some window up in Morgan and lift a fiver than miss this game.

Another man says he'll flunk out if he plays football. Let him flunk out, then! What's he here for? Has n't he learned yet that everybody but a few fossilized antediluvian mud turtles, like this Faculty here, concedes that the ideal college is an improved athletic club? What's Greek and Latin? Your old dog-eared back-numbers keep pawing over the scrapbaskets and rats' nests of a thousand generations, but that ain't the Williams spirit, not by a long shot! Athletics lead, all others follow.

You say your father forbids you to play, maybe. You're afraid somebody will cry her eyes out, huh? It will drive your mother wild, will it? Well, let it! That's the Williams spirit! Why, there was a man in my own class, he was the finest fellow I ever knew, as gentle as a girl, and kind-hearted as a cosset lamb. But that fellow could play football like a fiend and his old man would n't let him. His mother was one of those chronic invalids you read about, only she showed symptoms of an inclination to kick the bucket at a moment's notice. His father was a swaybacked, broken-winded old gent, and he had a snag of kid brothers and sisters that would soon be looking to him for their bread and butter. If anything should happen to him on the gridiron, he knew that they'd have to chew boot-leather up in Podunk for breakfast, dinner, and supper. could see already in his mind's eye the six little strips of crape hanging on the front door like squirrels' tails on the side of a barn, but it did n't phase him a bit; for he took an optimistic view of life and thought how the undertaker, and the undertaker's wife, and the baby undertaker would all get fat and happy off the job and it chirked him up wonderfully.

He

And still he did n't play ball till finally in Senior year he came around to me and said: "Vamoose, I want to play football the worst way-if I play, it will kill my people, what shall I do?" It did n't take me long to tell him "Your people be hanged!" I said "Your place is on the football field.” So he went out and made the team. That ain't all. The day of the great game came and who should show up in the morning but the Old Gent. What did he do? Back out of the game? Not by a darn sight. He laid in wait for the Old Man up by the post-office with a sand-bag, batted him one