Editor's Cable.

As we take up our somewhat weary pen to put the finishing touches to the present Number of the "LIT.," we are forcibly and somewhat sadly reminded, that we are presiding at this time-honored "Table" for the last time. In this centers our pleasantest duty. Around its worn, yet genial, form, all that stiffness and punctilliousness of thought and expression, which must necessarily characterize the remaining pages of our Magazine, banish, and we are at once as much at home with you, as on our College Green. We have sometimes been asked whether this socalled "Editor's Table," were a reality, or only a myth, existing in the fancy of a few imaginative individuals. A reality? Of course it is. A scarred and worn veteran, it has been a companion of the chosen five these many years, and a receptacle of wit and genius, of sense and non-sense, till it could speak volumes, were it allowed an unrestrained utterance. We have half a mind to pull out its capacious drawer, and let you take a peep into its contents; but fear the Judge might be aroused to close your peep-ers, for prying into Editorial secrets. While he, however, is computing at what hour in the morning he can allow his early rising chum to awake him, in order that he may be able to read over thirty pages of metaphysics before prayers, I'll venture a pull upon the "drawer." A promiscuous collection, I assure you, will meet your eye. Here, in one corner, lie three or four candles, secured about the time, that "illumination" was coming off, but which the nation never witnessed, and which have hence been added to our scanty stock in that line. Our Editorial genius displayed upon the "LIT." is, of Course, lit by a candle. Didn't Byron and Shakespeare and Addison and Hume and Milton, and we don't know who besides, compose their finest productions by the dim light of a taper? Then, if such was the case, what better to illumine genius? Our mind rec-oils at the thought of oil. In the words of the immortal Bard, "Give me a taper! Get more tapers!" Nor would we use gas. Its light is too glaring and dazzling-tend. ing to suppress, by reason of its brilliancy, the modest germs of thought. Here, in another part of the "drawer," lies the official pen, used only on special occasions, as, for instance, when the acceptance or non-acceptance of an invitation to a supper at Savin Rock is necessarily formal, and which is wielded only by our Chairman. Any number of dilapidated quills are scattered promiscuously about, some worn to a stump, with hard service. Could you examine into the contents of the numerous envelops and loose documents, nearly filling the "drawer," at present, you would read in astonishment the what are supposed to be, poetical productions. One would fancy a new age of poets was about to dawn upon our country, and that prose would soon cease to be the common method of communicating thought, in the strife for poetical distinction. We would by no means utter a word which might have a tendency to 'nip in the bud' the feeblest germ of poetry, but would advise the careful study of a respectable prose style, before abandoning ones self to verse. We have, it is true, a number of Articles on hand, both in prose and verse, which are creditable productious, yet, which we could not publish, for want of space.

The last month has been one of the most memorable in the history of this nation, as well as one of unusual interest in our own college world. We have already ventilated ourselves pretty freely with reference to the Presidential election, in our editorial. Abraham Lincoln is re-elected. The country breathes freer, and we have all settled down to our accustomed quiet, as though nothing had happened. Our own local affairs are now of paramount interest in our minds. The close of a college term brings with it, to all, the accustomed examinations; though we must say, that it is not easy to get accustomed to them. Seniors find, in five examinations within four successive days, an abundance of cramming as well as grumbling. Well, they can console themselves with the thought, that there is a limit to all these vexations, which we are fast approaching. Nothing so forcibly brings this fact to our mind, as sitting for class pictures. We believe the majority of the Seniors have passed through this disagreeable ordeal. We know, at least, there has been a deal of harsh language used, and patience exhausted. The gentlemanly Mr. Sanborn of Lowell, the artist, has done every thing in his power to make handsome men out of those who never possessed a trace of beauty, but we understand he has failed in a number of instances. We would remind those individuals with whom he has not been successful in this respect, that there are supposed to be several other artists in the country, who for a consideration would doubtless be glad of their patronage.

It is with great pleasure and satisfaction that we welcome back to college walls, and to their editorial duties, upon our Magazine, the "Temperance Lecturer," as he has been styled, and the "angular editor." We should be decidedly opposed to diminishing permanently the number of editors to three. With the rich experience which they possess, of the beauties of military life in the west, we shall doubtless be permitted to learn from their ready pens the impressions formed of our confederate foes, as well as the feasibility of abandoning College life for that of the army.

My candle is burning low, and doubtless your patience lower, hence it would be well to put on an extinguisher at once. We can only close with wishing all a safe passage through the coming "borous examinations," and when, speedily, vacation is upon us, the "gladdest, merriest time" possible.

In duty to ourselves we must here inform our subscribers that the subscription price of the "Lit." which is in reality due at the time of subscribing, will be expected, where still unpaid, before the delivery of this number. We do not wish to be too arbitrary in this matter but the promise of a subscriber to pay three months hence, will not cancel a present indebtedness.

Our Exchanges.

We have received of our exchanges the past month; The Atlantic Monthly, the Beloit Journal, and Williams's Quarterly. We can not understand why others which should reach us, in exchange for the "Lit." fail to come to hand.

IT would be difficult to overestimate the force of public opinion. In every established community, that system of laws and principles which has gradually come into general acceptance, is the real controlling Power, the Law, and in many cases, the Bible and Conscience of the individual. Even the fundamental principles of politics and religion can not be enforced or applied, except as they are approved and required by the prevailing tone of the public mind. In Spain, the good Christian can lie and steal; in South Carolina, compel his servants to adultery; in Indiana, vote half a dozen times; in Yale College, sign his name to a bogus church-paper; and in neither case does the noonday act seem to disturb the sincerity or quietude of the morning and evening devotions. This is not, in some cases at least, because the individual is dishonest, but because he takes the prevailing sentiment as his standard.

Public opinion, therefore, when rightly directed, becomes a source of the highest good; misdirected, the producing cause of every evil. Rightly directed-in a Monarchy it is a potent check on rapacity, immorality and wrong in court, and upon violence and crime in the people;-in a Republic it fences in rulers with restraints which they dare not overleap, and guards at once the liberties and morals of the people;-in the Community it conserves all the best interests of religion, morality and philanthropy, guaranteeing to families their rights,

and giving to individuals their due. Wrongly directed, it gives to rulers, license; permits in the people, violence; suffers immorality and irreligion to lift their heads in communities, and drops the seeds of discord and confusion in families. In war, if public opinion demands of every officer and soldier the full performance of his duty, and covers with contempt and disgrace those who fail in this performance, it gives to every man an incitement to duty which not fatigue, nor suffering, nor fear of bullet, bayonet, saber-stroke, or shrieking shell, can overbalance; if, on the other hand, an indulgent public opinion excuses the cowardly soldier, and accepts the resignation of every officer who may weary of the service, it takes away the strongest inducement to bravery, and renders doubly formidable the forces of the foe. And so in temptation and danger everywhere, the man who is subjected to one, or confronting the other, is likely to be bold and decided, or weak and irresolute, according as he expects to find public opinion stern or indulgent.

This force, in driving men to heroic actions, was perhaps never better illustrated than in the career of Gen. Wolfe at Quebec. A short time before he left England, a general of good reputation had been sent into the Mediterranean, on an expedition, of the success of which the English people entertained the most sanguine expectations. The expedition, after meeting with some disasters and a few partial advantages, signally failed, by reason of certain events over which the commander had apparently no control. The people were sadly disappointed, and with their usual inconsiderate haste, vented upon the unfortunate commander that rage which the failure of the expedition had aroused. He was deprived of his command, and hissed and hooted in the streets, though no Court of Inquiry ever succeeded in fastening upon him the blame of the failure in which the expedition terminated. With the memory of these events still fresh in his mind, Wolfe set out on his expedition. His first attempt against Quebec failed, and at the Falls of Montmorenci he met with a disaster which threatened the success of his whole plan. This disaster, with the fears it aroused, sensibly affected the mind of Wolfe. Knowing as he did the impatience of the English people, who always visited upon their generals a heavy penalty for failure, and despairing of finding any opportunity of retrieving by success a reputation which was now in imminent hazard, his anxiety became such as to seriously impair his health, both of body and mind. In his dreams he was heard frequently to mutter in a despairing tone, and in his waking hours to

assert that he would never return without success, to be exposed, as other unfortunate commanders had been, to the censure and reproach of an ignorant and ungrateful populace. This disturbance of mind, joined to the fatigues of body which he had endured, caused a fever and dysentery, by which he was for some time rendered incapable of any action. When just beginning to recover his strength, he called a council of war, and urged on by a keen sense of the wrongs he must suffer, unless he should in some way achieve a victory, he planned and executed that brilliant and daring, but seemingly desperate assault, which no man, except one driven to the choice between death and disgrace, would ever have dreamed of attempting. This incident is an illustration of the point in question. It was a public opinion which always discovered fault in failure, that in this case urged on the man and the army, from an almost hopeless position, through a deed of rarely equaled daring, to this most brilliant achievement, which gave to England, Quebec-and to History, a Hero.

But further illustration is needless. The force of public opinion over the acts, over the thoughts even, is a seen and acknowledged force. If then it can be directed or controlled, it becomes a source of power to the man or set of men who wield it.

Public opinion, in its broader sense, and in regard to fundamental principles, is the growth of ages. It is made up of the gradual accretions of knowledge and experience which communities have gained through successive generations. And in this sense it is firm, not to be changed in a day, nor wielded by any momentary power. For example, that deeply seated opinion which is the basis of English liberty, is the result of all those experiments and trials, through which the English nation has passed for three centuries. It has grown away from a belief in Feudalism and Royal Prerogative, until now it holds as firmly established, certain inalienable rights of the people, which can neither be gainsayed nor opposed by King nor Lords. In like manner, the freedom of the individual conscience, and the independence of Church upon State, came by slow growth, but once established can never be overthrown. In regard to these fundamental principles, public opinion yields to the influence of no man.

But in minor points and in special applications, the public sentiment of any body or neighborhood is easily molded. He who can cause the people of a neighborhood or assembly to think together on any question of policy, or feel together on any question of morality, or excite in them common emotions, controls for the time their public sentiment, and wields its power.