tholomew's " 'Eve," and Crawford's " Orpheus," are each types of this new element in art.

Thus, regarding excess of emotion, strong speculative tendencies, and deep spirituality, as the leading causes of the spirit of sadness, peculiar to the literature of our time, we cannot but look forward with hope to the future. The various influences now at work, as they blend with each other, setting deeper into life and literature, and losing the morbid intensity which attended their development, will form a basis upon which the most enduring works can be built. The great truths of the soul which have been brought to light, the new shades of feeling which have been detected, the diffusion of knowledge, and progress of science which has never before been so great, and the union of philosophy with religion, which is beginning to show itself, not only in the works of imagination, but even in theological treatises,-all these are elements which have entered largely into the permanent literature of all nations, in every age, and which are the peculiar elements in the literature of our own.

What it Costs to go through College.

POPULAR ideas of the practical workings and requirements of any system, are apt to be erroneous. The inexperienced mind precipitates itself into conclusions which investigation will either greatly modify or wholly controvert. In nothing is this more strikingly exemplified than in the popular idea of a College education. By a Collegiate education we do not mean simply the acquisition of a diploma, but rather the full and perfect realization of those benefits and advantages which it is possible to obtain by a proper use of College. The man of the outside world generally considers money as the only condition necessary to the successful completion of a Collegiate course, and estimates the cost of it in the money paid out. This, perhaps, is a natural error. For when he sees the omnipotence of the dollar in his sphere of action; when he sees money supplying intellectual and moral deficiencies in the view of his fellow men; when he sees positive influence and power marketable commodities with fixed prices; when he sees reputation sold to

lust, and innocence, sacrificed to ambition, bought back by money; I say, when he sees such exhibitions in the practical workings of his social system, he is apt to transfer his judgments of his own without modification to our system and habits. In our review of the cost of a Collegiate education, we shall omit to notice the financial phases of it, passing over those periodical depletions of the paternal purse, which are too numerous to secure the convenience of one party, and too rare to sustain the extravagance of the other. We shall first enquire what it costs a man physically to go through College. While our labor is confessedly mental, it must not be lost sight of that mental labor involves a greater expenditure of physical strength and health than any other. It will exhaust physical energy, and the recuperative forces of the physical system, sooner than almost any other kind of labor, But besides the actual physical exertion required to meet the demands of College duty, there are other requirements which necesitate the outlay of physical strength and vitality. The wretched ventilation for which Yale College is unfortunately notorious, at least among the students, makes inroads upon the physical constitution, and consequently upon the mental health, which cannot be properly estimated. The recitation rooms and chapel are closed as if there were some penetrating pestilence in the atmosphere. When we reflect that in every respiration of an individual adult, twenty five cubic inches of air are inhaled and exhaled, and that there are something like twenty respirations a minute: when we consider that every exhalation creates carbonic acid, and that even "so small a quantity of carbonic acid as one or two per cent. produces grave effects on respiration," we may gain some slight idea of the effects of poor ventilation. Add to this that six hundred persons during one service in this chapel, respire something like fifteen thousand cubic feet of air, and impregnate it more or less with carbonic acid, that deadly enemy of respiration,-and the necessity for better ventilation will appear too evident for argument. Every man knows by experience the diminution of "vital activity" which such air generates. sleepy occupants of the chapel seats, can be found every Sunday infallible aërometers. If such air does not justify, it at least produces a sleepy listlessness, which is as unprofitable to the individual hearer as it is discouraging to the preacher. If reformation is needed in any one department of our College accommodations, it is in ventilation.

In the

Secondly, what does it cost a man mentally to go through College? What mental coin do we pay for the benefits which we re

ceive? There is here a large mine of intellectual ore which is worked night and day, by something like four hundred and fifty laborers. From computations made, we find that it would take one man over a year, studying eight hours a day, to do the studying, which is done here in a single day. It is a labor which cannot be done by proxy. It cannot be lessened by artful devices, or mollified by shrewd expedients, if a man would get the benefits of it. Neither obstinate indisposition, nor even physical exhaustion, can furnish any permanent immunity from its demands. It must be done promptly and thoroughly, whether we feel like it or not, if we stay here. Fertile ingenuity may elaborate, and an accommodating code of ethics may possibly sanction plausible excuses for a time, but these will sooner or later fail. Work receives its reward, but indolence can find no mercy or toleration in Yale College. All labor except mental, we can hire done. Do we not sometimes feel that if labor is the expiation of a sinful body, we are chief among ten thousand sinners? How often do failures to obtain the objects of our labor, intensify that consciousness of inferiority which often produces recklessness, and sometimes fatal self-distrust! How much intellectual infelicity does this produce at times! Under the influence of this spirit, how many noble resolutions languish and die! How often does this skepticism in regard to the abilities of self, produce not only a ruinous self-depreciation, but a loss of confidence in the merits and talents of our associates! What aversion and fear does it sometimes produce, in regard to the responsibilities which life, after leaving College, will impose! Reflection on the acquisitions which one makes while in College, have a tendency to produce anything but satisfaction. We trace back the history of our labors, for one, two, and possibly three years, and discover how few the products of our labor appear. Books that we have gone over,-how imperfectly have they been mastered and how little of their wealth has been treasured up, for future profit and gratification; and that too, when our work has been avowedly of an acquisitive, and not of an originating nature. For we are marked for and employed in acquisitions. How deeply the most of us feel the need of a thorough and comprehensive course of reading! How little we thoroughly know of History, European, English and even American! How imperfectly do we apprehend and understand even the fundamental principles, the theory and constructions of our own language! How slight our acquaintance with the intellectual

wealth of the Society and College Libraries! When such convictions as these come to us, as a legitimate consequence of our College course, bringing regret and humiliation, we may properly take them into consideration as constituting no small part of the cost of going through College.

Finally, what does it cost a man morally to go through College? This depends entirely upon the man. Some it costs all the moral principle they ever had; others a great part of it; and it costs all a trying struggle and a faithful vigilance. Stimulated by what we term the "social element," but more properly a refined, and in itself harmless, rowdyism, we are apt to trespass upon those convictions of strict right which are planted in us as a restraint to excess. In our pursuit of the objects of College ambition, too, there our code of ethics is apt to become somewhat elastic; for excessive eagerness for anything is apt to employ, at times, a questionable honesty in pursuit of it. There is a temptation, if not tendency, to substitute expediency for principle. There are those, also, who object to the system which compels attendance at Chapel exercises, as injurious to the moral sensibilities. If it be true that under the compulsory system men go to Chapel more to save eight marks than to save their souls, it is equally true, we think, that it arises from a voluntary and culpable obstinacy on the part of the individual. Men may invent excuses to get rid of it, more plausible than honest, yet this only argues the liability of this, like all other systems, to abuse and perversion. Would not a voluntary system be more abused? Indeed, can there be a system without compulsion, either internal or external? If there be not internal, is not external compulsion better than none? Whatever detereoration there may be, is voluntary, and therefore the responsibility for it rest wholly with the individual. We have already continued our article too far, and must draw it to a close. Every individual who seriously reflects upon the cost of a collegiate education, ought to find in that retrospect an active stimulus to renewed exertion and resolution. He ought not to go to the expense which a College course involves, without finding in himself a stronger and more healthful consciousness of power, without receiving some just equivalent for his outlays. Thus, in after years, when memory gives up her dead, and the past, with all of its solemn significance, passes in review, he can find in it something to animate and strengthen his hopes and aspirations for

the future.

S. D. F.

Bash Bish.

LITCHFIELD and Berkshire Counties, and that portion of New York immediately bordering upon them, are famous for their varied and beautiful scenery. Through the midst of this region runs the Tahconic range of mountains, whose highest peak rises, in an almost perfect dome, far above every surrounding object. On either side, at various distances, and intervened by broad and fertile valleys, lie lower ranges, cultivated in many places to the very summit by the hardy industry of New England, their sides covered with fields of golden grain, patches of wood-land, green pastures, and sloping meadows. Bathed in the soft, mellow light of a summer afternoon, they present a marked and beautiful contrast to the rough sides of the old Tahconics. The valleys lying between, are broken with hills, seamed with merry brooks, and dotted all over with little villages and clumps of trees, which good taste has left standing; while here and there, nestling in the bosom of the hills, a silver lake sparkles in the sunshine. In such an extended and varied landscape, it would be strange were there not some spots of surpassing loveliness, or even grandeur and magnificence. And such there are. From some of the more accessible peaks, the valley of the Hudson, on the west, bounded by the blue outline of the Catskills, some forty miles distant, and,-on the east, the valley of the Housatonic, and the country skirted by the distant mountains, which from the western boundary of the valley of the Connecticut, lie spread in brilliant panorama before the observer, or through some wild ravine, where the mountain torrent has cut itself a course in the solid rock, it falls to the valley below, beaten into ten thousand leaping and glittering crystals. Bash Bish is one of these latter places. The name is of Swiss origin, and from this and others of similar derivation, it is surmised by some, that Swiss were once settled here, and transferred hither the names of places dear to them in their sweet memories of home.

It is a deep, dark, rugged gorge, torn into the western slope of the Tahconics by some fierce throe of nature, which seems to have snapped asunder the solid ribs of the mountains. Through this awful chasm, a wild stream leaps along in a series of magnificent cascades, filling the air with cool and delicious spray, even in the hot, dry midst of summer.

At this season it is a favorite resort of