mind. Even then he could hear the half-suppressed titter of the students.

"He did not fill the plate which was before him. He rose from the table, and beckoned for the new tutor to follow him.

"Meekly and quietly rose the thin-legged man from the table. Hurriedly and tearfully did he crowd his enormous hat over his brows. Slowly and solemnly followed he the older tutor to his room. Silently and sorrowfully did he receive a lecture upon the enormity of his delinquency.

"I shall not report your case to the other members of the faculty, was said by the kind old Tutor in conclusion, 'as this is your first offense, and a great deal of allowance is to be made for your inexperience. But if ever the offense is repeated, if ever I hear such a word from your lips again, I shall feel it my duty to report it to the President. Speak English! You might as well talk Indian. Anybody can speak English, the wild savages talk Indian, but the learned converse in Latin.'

66

Confessing the heinousness of his offense the younger Tutor took his leave. But a new prospect was opened before him ; —a prospect of mortification and almost insult. That night a small package, neatly wrapped up, was left at his door. He opened it and found a pint of white BEANS. He chanced the next recitation to ask a student concerning the doctrines of Pythagoras, and he received an answer that one of their peculiar doctrines was the inculcation of a total abstinence from BEANS. One day a paper was passed around in the recitation room, which excited so much merriment in every successive one who read it, that he demanded it. After the recitation was over he perused its contents. It was simply an

EPIGRAM.

When our recent Tutor is heard to speak,

This truth one certainly gleans,
Whatever he knows of Euclid or Greek,
In Latin he don't know BEANS.

"In truth this ill-omened vegetable now haunted his whole existence. Go where he would, he could not escape it. He saw the thought of BEANS lurking beneath the half-suppressed smile and mischievous glance with which his approach was regarded by the students. He saw it in the condescending and pitying air with which the senior Tutor viewed him. The winds that whistled through the crannies of Old South Middle, seemed to utter the name of BEANS; and it was

Perhaps this may be the origin of unintelligent person, that, to use a

caught up and repeated a thousand times by the murmuring branches of the trees. Even the town-boys learned the story, and if he met a company of urchins in the street, some one would say, 'There goes the Tutor who don't know BEANS.' that common saying concerning any circumlocution, he is ignorant of the aforesaid garden vegetable. "But the worst was yet to come. During the stay of our hero in College, he had conceived a passion for a certain young lady, who was, while he was an undergraduate, quite coy. But upon his accession to a tutorship, which was considered quite an honor, she had encouraged his bashful advances. Although he had never told his love,' he had reason to believe that she was not entirely indifferent to his attentions, nor displeased by them. Imagine, then, his astonishment at a most chilling reception with which she greeted him when he called a few days after the occurrence I have mentioned. He tried to think in what he had offended her. He reviewed his whole conduct and could find no neglect with which to accuse himself. He rose to depart after a few moments of frigid conversation.

"For the future, sir,' said she, as he was leaving, 'you will please call on other members of the family. My parents will be most happy to see you, but I shall be otherwise engaged during your visits.'

66

It was too much. His diffidence was banished by her scorn. Down on his knees fell the poor pale-faced, bashful tutor, and addressing her in tones which would have moved the heart of a marble statue, (supposing they have hearts,) exclaimed:

“Will you never see me again? Do you know how dearly I love you? I have dared to hope that you loved me-would one day be mine !'

"Be yours!' replied she, drawing herself up in the most approved tragedy style, 'I would as willingly marry an idiot. Do you suppose that I would have a husband, (unless he was a great deal better looking than you,) of whom the very boys in the street could say, 'he don't know BEANS?' Go, sir, and never let me see you again.'

"The sad Tutor went his way sadder than ever. From that time he grew indifferent to his books, indifferent to his class, indifferent to everything. He wasted away to a mere shadow. His breeches and stockings hung baggily about his attenuated walking sticks, for legs they could not be called. Everything dwindled away but his head. That, by the diminution of the rest of his body, seemed to grow preternaturally large. Finally, he disappeared.

It was thought he had
His room was enter-
Inquiry was made

"One morning he was not in the Tutor's box. 'slept over.' Noon came; he was not there. ed. No one had slept there the previous night. for him, but no clue or trace could be found which might lead to his discovery. The last that was seen of him he was walking up a cartpath which led into the woods from the end of College street. All search for him in the forest was ineffectual. There was a current report that he had drowned himself in the Creek which leads up near the foot of East Rock. But no one ever knew. At all events the cart-path in which he was last seen is, to this day, called Tutor's Lane; and, when I was in College, it was said his ghost might be seen on clear moon-light nights, dressed in the same old style, walking up and down the lane, and sometimes venturing down to the residence of his lady near the foot of Elm street, where it wandered among the beanpoles of her father's garden. And once, indeed, I had the good fortune to see it.

666 When, and how?" I asked.

"It was near the close of the summer term. There was a little social party of us assembled at a friend's house and I had told this same story. One of the ladies lived near that part of the city where I had located the residence of the ghost's loved one, when I proposed that I should walk home with her to point out the real house; for she averred the whole story to be a creation of my own. We neared the house. It is on the right side of Elm street as you go towards State, and stands quite a distance from the street. Fancy our surprise when we saw there in the yard, leaning against a tree, in a pensive attitude, the Ghost. He seemed to be gazing up to the chamber where formerly his beloved had dreamed. There was the same enormous cocked hat upon his head, the same clothes loosely hanging about his limbs, which the tradition had described. We could see in the clear moonlight his loose coat flutter in the breeze, and his arms gently waving, as if imploring some unseen one to pity him.

"The lady with me clung to my arm trembling and frightened. I was startled, but assumed as brave an air as possible.

"It is the ghost!' whispered she.

I will go and speak to it,' said

I, while my knees smote together like Belshazzar's.

"Don't, pray don't,' said she, and I did n't. But I had all the credit of bravery, and as many thanks for protection, as if I had found out who or what it was. And the young lady firmly believed that she had seen a ghost, until I informed her of one unfortunate circumstance that destroyed her illusion.

"What was that?' I asked.

"I'll tell you. The next day I was passing that same house and what should I see up in the cherry-tree, in the front-yard, but the Ghost. There he sat calmly and composedly looking vacantly into the air. I was astonished.

"Bob,' said I, carelessly to a fellow-student who was with me, that 's rather a queerly dressed gentleman up in the tree yonder.'

"Ha ha!' said he, I had a great time manufacturing him. I came down last night to make a call and get some cherries, and the lady of the house mentioned that they were very much troubled by the birds. I proposed making a scarecrow. So she went up stairs and brought down some old clothes and rigged out the gentleman in the tree. We left him under the tree last night. They have given him his present lofty position this morning. He looks natural, don't he?'

666

'Very,' I replied, but I never told Bob this veritable ghost-story; and what was very strange, I managed that the young lady should also keep the secret so that no one ever knew how badly we were deceived." Thus ended the story.

TO PROFESSOR OLMSTED.

Memorabilia Valensia.

CORRESPONDENCE.

SIR:-At a meeting of the Class of '55, held this day, (24th Feb.,) on the occasion of the termination of your last course of lectures to that Class, we, the undersigned, were appointed a Committee to present you the following resolution:

Resolved, That the Class of '55, having listened to the late course of lectures by Professor Olmsted on Meteorology and Astronomy, and having received therefrom an unusual amount of instruction and pleasure, do hereby return to Professor Olmsted their sincere thanks, and express towards him their very high appreciation of his services and kindness; with the assurance that neither his instructions nor his courtesy shall ever be forgotten.

In behalf of the Class,

N. W. BUMSTEAD,

D. L. HUNTINGTON, Committee.
S. T. WOODWARD,

TO MESSRS. N. W. BUMSTEAD, D. L. HUNTINGTON, S. T. WOODWARD, Committee. GENTLEMEN:-I could not but be greatly pleased with your note, express ing such respectful and affectionate sentiments towards me on the part of your Class. Assured, as I have been, of the lively and intelligent interest which

they have taken in my lectures on Meteorology and Astronomy, I have felt it a high privilege to lead them through the delightful and varied fields of creation over which we have roamed in company. Happy is the lot of the teacher when he can truly say labor ipse voluptas, and happier still when he can find pupils who make him such kind returns.

I beg you, Gentlemen, to express to your classmates my most fervent good wishes for the happy termination of their academic course, and for their future progress to the highest seats of usefulness and honor; and to assure them that while I live, I shall ever hold among my most cherished recollections my connection with the Class of '55.

Very Truly Yours,

DENISON OLMSTED.

Yale College, Feb. 26, 1855.

CLASS MEETING OF '56.

The Class of '56 assembled on Wednesday, Feb. 7th, for the purpose of electing Editors of the Yale Literary Magazine. John H. Worrall was called to preside, and Messrs. Arnot, Peck and Richardson were appointed Tellers. The following gentlemen were chosen :

At the regular Election, Feb. 21st, the following officers were chosen:

Prizes awarded to the Sophomore Class, for English Composition, second