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Europe only but in Asia that you meet her. She knows that her dominion over the world must be short, while the Anglo-Saxon race hold a mighty empire in India. Moreover, you yourselves, by the extension of your territory to the Pacific, are drawn by a thousand ties of activity to Asia. Your expedition to Japan has a world of meaning in it.

You, by having extended your empire to the Pacific, become the heart of the world. You are brought into the compass of Russian hatred and Russian ambition. Either you or Russia must fall.” We may be sure that the Czar's pretended regard for us is but a trap, and is based on his old maxim, “ Divide et impera.” In time past Russia has often shown her dislike to us. During our Revolution, she was on the point of taking part with England against us, but was afraid of the British terms. She refused to recognize our independence or receive our envoy till 'after Great Britain had done so, and had no diplomatic relations with us for thirty years after the Declaration of Independence. In 1821, she issued a ukase to forbid our vessels entering the North Pacific, declaring it to be a mare clausum.” Besides, Pozzo di Borgo, and other Russian diplomatists have declared that despotism is insecure till we ourselves become a kingridden people.

It is said that England is acting on selfish motives, and not merely from sympathy for Turkey. We have yet to learn that a legitimate regard for self-interest should be blamed. England has large material interests in the East, which were in the highest degree endangered by the course of the Czar. The possession of Constantinople and the control of the Mediterranean, by making Russia a great maritime power, would render the independence of every other European state a mere name, and would constitute her mistress of three-quarters of the globe. As Kossuth said, “ 'The Bosphorus in the hands of the Sultan saves the world from Russian dominion.” It is also the right and duty of England to sustain the law of nations, and to protect an ancient ally from an aggression involving her very independence as a nation. Thus, duty and a legitimate self-interest combined to urge her to the course she took.

Again, England is blamed for keeping on friendly terms with the great German powers. It is an old saying that charity begins at home, and we think that neither nations nor individuals are bound to engage from pure philanthropy in desperate and foolhardy enterprises. On the one hand, are the governments of Germany having under their control a million of well equipped and disciplined soldiers, and supported by the bankers and wealthy classes of Europe. On the other, a disheartened, unarmed and scattered party, whose every movement is watched by a vigilant police. An appeal to the Revolutionary element would be a declaration of war against every crowned head in Europe, might cost England the coöperation of France, and with her small land force would lead to speedy and utter defeat. In fact, it is the same practical Anglo-Saxon common-sense which three years ago prevented us from being carried away by the eloquence of Kossuth, that now prevents England from embarking in the cause of universal democracy.

Should the German states next spring throw their weight into the scale of the allies, Russia will speedily come to terms.

She cannot fight united Europe. Should they not take this course, the western powers may be obliged to invoke the wild and uncertain energies of revolution. Then we may see all Europe wrapped in flame, and a million men marching on the French frontier. A desperate contest will ensue, of which no man can calculate the issue.

Who can say that Napoleon's prophecy will not yet be fulfilled, Europe be Cossack, the Russian frontier be advanced to the Atlantic, and the Sclavonic the ruling race of the world ? In that case the following beautiful Address to England might have a deeper meaning than its author intended.

“Lear and Cordelia! 'twas an ancient tale
Before thy Shakspeare gave it deathless fame:
The times have changed, the moral is the same.
So like an outcast, dower less and pale,
Thy daughter went; and in a foreign gale
Spread her young banner, till its sway became
A wonder to the nations. Days of shame
Are close upon thee: prophets raise their wail.
When the rude Cossack with an out-stretched hand
Points his long spear across the narrow sea-
“Lo! there is England !”—when thy destiny
Storms on thy straw crowned head, and thou dost stand
Weak, helpless, mad, a bye-word in the land,
God grant thy daughter a Cordelia be!"-Boker.

Archibald Braxton.


“The banquet hath its hour

Its feverish hour,-of mirth, and song, and wine;-
There comes a day for grief's o'erwhelming power,

A day for softer tears."
Leaves have their time to fall,

And flowers to wither at the north-wind's breath,
And stars to set,—but all,

Thou hast all seasons for thy own, O Death!”


We must hurry by the minutiæ of the first year, for with all their trials and excitements they are trivial and wearisome in their monotony. Freshmen are themselves most eager for a new sphere, happy when they strut forth in a new relation. At the former dropping of the curtain, Percival and Braxton were in an unenviable position, that of tyro's, targets for the shafts of Sophomore witticism, subjects of the stern old ruler “ College custom.” Since then, with an author's license, we have peeped in at the side scenes, and have viewed with interest the progress of the actors. They have hastened to strip off the odious title, cultivate mustaches, carry “Bangers” and wear Byron collars. They have even condescended to make fiery speeches in Linonia, waylay Freshmen at the Depot, and electioneer among them with enthusiasm suited to the nature of the great cause. They enjoy recitals of a smoking-out immensely. They are Sophomores ;-could we say more! But hist, reader, for the prompter’s bell is ringing ;give us full light, candle-snuffer,--we will take our seat among the audience, and let the curtain rise upon us as a true spectator, remembering that the scene dates one year from the last.

In the large, old fashioned room, with its deep-set fireplace, bricked up to give draft to the modern glowing Olmsted,-huge projecting beams across the ceiling, -undulated floor, by its settling, causing everything to roll off to the southeast corners,-and multiplicity of doors and windows, none could fail to recognize its locality in old South Middle. Were no other evidence before us, the pervading musty odor, struggling with tobacco for the mastery, and the rattling of the windows in their loose and ugly casements, would proclaim it. Tottering centenarian ! all romance of veneration is dispelled by inhabiting

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its purlieus for a fortnight. The furniture is correspondent to the ruin and disorder of the building ;-a bright crimson carpet, stained and torn in places, battered lounge, and curtains of a faded blue brocade, are among the most conspicuous,—though perhaps not more so than a centre table, piled with books, lemon-peeling and cigars, pushed aside now by a huge bowl of Crambambuli.

Clouds of smoke almost hide the picture-covered walls from notice, yet above Lassalle's “ Napoleon” is seen perched a plaster eagle, holding in his beak a gauze mask, while his outspread wings support a pair of foils. Underneath it hangs a boating costume, and flags draped around an ornamental boat-hook, show the owner holds some office in

Navy.” From the mantel grin a row of masks, each surmounted by an old hat, varying in style and shabbiness. The open bookcase, with its finely bound collection, seems to be also a receptacle for papers loosely stuffed in, broken meerschaums, cards, and ash-racks.

Everything is in confusion, everything incongruous ;—from the oddly assorted pictures, --statesmen, Sapphos, gamecocks, classic groups and comicalities, to the scattered boots, hats, coats, and boxing gloves from the coarse lumbering armchairs, to exquisite Baxter's and Thorswaldsen casts.

The party comprised five young men, whose flushed faces and bright eyes each betokened more or less' exhilaration. They were gathered round the table in free, easy attitudes, holding drinking cups formed without stands, thus compelling each one to be drained off at a filling. They were ready for a bumper.

“ Gentlemen,” said Archie, for our hero was in truth the entertainer,—"Gentlemen, are you ready for the toast,--all filled, -no heeltaps,-remember as our dear friend Horace hath it — Nunc vino pellite curas,'-or, according to our version,

. And over a punch, or a sling, sirs,
We'll merrily shout and sing, sirs,
For we think it the wisest thing, sirs,

To drive dull care away.'
Omnes, in chorus,

"To drive dull care away,
To drive dull care away,

For over,' &c.
Here, then, is one, to the glorious class of fifty —! To be
taken standing and with three cheers.” Hip! hip! hurrah !
Gentlemen," said another of the party, " there is one near us,



I regret to see not among us, one whose social qualities and generous nature has endeared him to us,-I refer to Mr. Percival, and move a committee be appointed to wait on him and produce him, ' vi et armis."" “ Move Mr. Braxton be appointed.”

Gentlemen,” said Archy, “it will be of no use, he is bent upon seclusion, but I 'll do what I can,”-saying which, he disappeared through one of the numerous doors into an adjoining room

"I knew he'd say so," he exclaimed, on reappearance," he 's engaged upon a story for the Yale Lit—but to tell the truth, boys,"sinking his voice lower," Ned is something of a Puritan.”

A few regrets are uttered, and compassionate expressions, and the mirth goes on,-speeches, song, and story, circle round the party, who , are fast becoming more exhilarated. Meerschaums and cigars used freely, and the cloud of smoke grows bluer, denser,-penetrating even to the room where Percie is endeavoring to shut out the noise and frolic.

The rain is pitilessly beating on the windows,-but the storm outside only adds a new joy to the revelers within. Why should they not revel, when they can be merry in defiance of its power? They are conscious of it, and the noisy chorus rings out,

“Cheer up, my lively lads, in spite of wind and weather,

Cheer up, my lively lads, we 'll have a time together." The wind and sleet are driving fiercely along Chapel street, and the few outsiders muffle up their faces as they hurry onward. One among them is a boy, mean and roughly clad,-having nothing in appearance worthy of notice, but his sturdy independence as he whistles carelessly, and breasts the storm. Yet he is the messenger of life and death, bearing daily, joy and anguish to the world around him. He is on his way now to the College. But the merry party think not of what may be passing on the outside ; they have banished care and dull reflection, and have no thought separate from the scene before them.

"Another toast,-drink it standing, -Here's to the girls we left behind us !-hallo, Ned, you old anchorite,—do you hear! come out and drink that, won't you ?"

"Hip! hip!"-clash go the glasses and the toast is drank.

“ Was not some one knocking ?” No, it was the window rattling,a song now, from Crawford,-a song !-Crawford Sa song !" Rap,--tap—tap,--the door opens, and before them stands the sturdy



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