or minds to appreciate a higher tone of discourse? We scorn the supposition. Let us seek a truer cause. What do men most think and speak of in the world about us? Undoubtedly their various avocations, and thus for no other reason than that they take a lively interest in them. We do not mean to say that we lack good scholars, but this is not the question. One man may leave with a valedictory, having taken far less abstract interest in his studies than another beneath him. The one takes his appointed lesson and gets it without a flaw; the other takes the subject, follows it through its various ramifications, and pursues the trains of thought it suggests; the one seeks verbal accuracy, the other availability of knowledge. Of course the two may be combined, but whether as the exception or the rule, is a question.

We have also the plea that youth is ever flippant, that we have but a narrow basis to start on, and that few have ever paid sufficient attention to this subject, to have a distinct idea of the mode of carrying on a conversation any length of time. Yet, he who will take the trouble to con. sider and practice, will find no better field for doing so than in the company of young men. Mingling with many different characters just moulding into form, he will discover and recognize with facility the elements of which they are composed, will prepare himself in the best and readiest school for active good in that busy world in whose portals we stand, and will learn that chief end and most valuable part of all education, how to benefit himself and his fellow man.

Brief is this our life on earth,
Brief,- -nor will it tarry.
Swiftly death runs to and fro,
All must feel his cruel blow,
None the dart can parry.

Raise we then the joyous shout,
Life to Yale forever!

Life to each Professor here;
Life to all our comrades dear,
May they leave us never.

Life to all the maidens fair,
Maidens sweet and smiling;

Life to gentle matrons too,
Ever kind and ever true,
All our cares beguiling.

May our land forever bloom
Under wise direction;
And this city's classic ground
In munificence abound,
Yielding us protection.

Perish sadness, perish hate,

And, ye scoffers, leave us!
Perish every shape of woe,
Devil and Philistine too,

That would fain deceive us.

Youth and hope a glory wear,
While on earth they're given,

That immortals ever share
In the pure and balmy air

Of the hills of heaven.

Let us then in youth rejoice,
"Twill repent us never:-
For when earthly scenes have fled,
And this mortal life has sped,
Youth abides forever!

AN APOLOGY FOR THE EIGHTH AND NINTH VERSES.

Strange it is that images of gloom should be invoked to quicken joy! Strange that the skeleton should be brought forth to give piquancy to the feast! Is this, then, all of life? And does present pleasure point to no future reversion? From

the bare letter of the "Gaudeamus" we gain no distinct answer to these questions, certainly no cheering one. And yet its spirit is truly noble. There is nothing groveling about it. You may call it a drinking song, but it is strung to the nectar of the gods. There is no surrendry of manhood in it. We perish, it is true; but we leave on record forever our faith in goodness, beauty and truth, and our scorn of everything false and vile.

excess.

But since the Olympian shimmer of Paganism has gone out like a star in the full light of the sun of Christianity, why remain longer in the darkness? Why not bathe our "Gaudeamus" in the golden rays of immortality? Do you ask, Where is the profit? I answer; much every way; chiefly, in curbing present The man who is animated by a lofty purpose, reaching on through many years of labor, husbands all his resources. And his visions of the future form a controlling element in his present enjoyments, moderating them, and yet without paradox heightening them at the same time. Much more is this true of a practical belief in immortality. For this belief knits youth and age together, and binds the present generation to all the past. Having this, youth no longer in mad haste seizes the passing pleasure, contemning the aged and deploring the dead. For the dead-are they not living? And the aged-blessings on their sunken cheeks and wrinkled brows, hieroglyphed all over by life's heat and burden-are they not passing into life?

And as all have a common nature, may we not look forward, some in this decade, some in that, and all within the narrow compass of a century, to an immortal youth, a season when the affections are forever warm, and the thoughts forever unwearied, when nought is left of age but its wisdom, and nought of youth has vanished but its folly? This will be at last the true brotherhood of humanity, that good time coming, which I sadly fear this world shall never witness. Then, when we have received the fiery baptism of death, may we not all, every bond and fetter melted away, be gathered within the holy light and around the warm effulgence, the endeared ara et foci, of our Father in our everlasting home?

A Visit to Vesuvius.

(AN EXTRACT FROM A VACATION LECTURE.)

On the fourth day of our stay in Naples, a party of American friends, among them two good specimens of intelligent and energetic New York girls, arrived, and an excursion to Vesuvius was agreed upon for the next day.

Francois, our worthy valet-de-place, made all necessary arrangements, and relieved us from the annoyances. First we rode, in open carriages, along the bay to Resina, part of the way being over the Marinella, the head-quarters of the Lazaroni, before they ceased to exist as a distinctive,

important class, and then the four younger, male members of the company, mounted donkeys and rode over fields of lava and scoria to the hermitage of St. Salvatore, while the others followed a winding carriage road to the same point. The awful desolation of the tract we passed over, exceeded anything I have ever seen elsewhere. The lava had evi dently first cooled at the surface, which cooled part had opened into various sized crevices in consequence of the heat below, and the subsequent action of the elements had broken it into pieces from the size of peas to others weighing tons.

The color is brownish black, without relief from a single green thing, and we gladly exchanged its dreary monotony for the verdure of a knoll just below the Hermitage, where we awaited the carriage. The view from this point of the bay, city, and environs-all bathed in the delicious, dreamy light of Italy--was enchanting. At the Hermitage the carriage road ended, and with the exception of the elderly lady, who was unwilling to trust herself to the vicious looking brutes, we all mounted donkeys and rode to the foot of the cone. To do the animals justice, they behaved better than they looked; the sagacity with which they picked a way over the loose scoria, and their unfailing sure-footedness, was admirable. Yet they did not permit much exhibition of equestrian skill, and when unable to bring mine to the side of my lady's steed without the shouts and blows of the guide, I was ready to exclaim, "A horse, a horse," ten donkeys for one horse. At the foot of the cone all dismounted amid "confusion worse confounded." As there was about a foot of snow on the path, it was thought best that the ladies should be carried in chairs, each slung upon poles, to be placed on the shoulders of four men, and the fifty porters present quarreled and fairly fought for this job, and the privilege of dragging up the gentlemen by straps attached to their waists.

Finally we ended the hubbub by selecting the best looking, and quieting the others with a few decided words, and, when necessary, by more striking arguments started. The snow helped by furnishing a surer foothold than the loose ashes would have done, and the ascent was easily accomplished by those who walked in an hour without any assistance.

The ladies had rather a rough passage; the uneven, slipping steps of the porters, produced an effect similar to that occasioned by the tossing of a ship in a storm, i. e. sea-sickness; they appeared to enjoy it about as much as the Pope did a corresponding ride down the long isle of St. Peter's, last Christmas. Besides, notwithstanding the proximity to the

"burning mountain," the air was biting, so that they suffered from the cold, while we, who walked, were dripping with perspiration.

The summit being reached, we walked to the edge of the large crater, which was so filled with smoke that no part of it could be seen, and the only proof of its activity were loud and startling explosions, occurring every few minutes.

The ground within twenty feet of the edge was broken by deep cracks, which parts, notwithstanding the assurances of the guides, did not appear safe.

The air was much impregnated with sulphur, which made the deep breathing, following our vigorous exercise, very unpleasant. After a slight lunch and a bumper to our regular toast, "Friends at Home," we skirted round the large crater to the smaller, where the wind drove away the smoke sufficiently to permit a good view.

It is about one hundred feet deep, and resembles a bowl in shape; the sides are formed of loose scoria, intermixed with ashes; the bottom of solidified lava, bearing many marks of its former liquefaction, and crossed in every direction by deep fissures. From the centre rises a small cone, some fifty feet high, of a yellow sulphur color, from whose top smoke and lurid flames constantly issued, and every few minutes a shower of burning lava, which rolled down the cone, and lodging here and there added to its bulk. As the guides were continually descending into the crater for the purpose of putting coins in the melted lava, V. and myself determined to venture down, and once in for it, went with a rush, beating the guides in the descent. Hastening to the cone, like the Irishman trying to kiss a pretty girl, we resolved to get at the "crater's mouth," and accordingly began to climb up the steep sides.

The sloping surface afforded a very uncertain foot-hold, for every three steps forward we slipped back at least two, and when about one-third of the way up, the heat began to be quite unpleasant to our feet.

But black and blue eyes were anxiously yet admiringly looking down upon the hazardous attempt, which made it impossible to give up, and we clambered some ten feet farther, when an unusually heavy shower of burning lava and scoria shot up over our heads. Having every reason to believe that what went up would come down, we concluded that we had better go down, and turning, run for our lives. I never ran so fast before, not even when running to morning prayers, and yet was caught by one piece of lava, which set my trowsers on fire. I have them still, and intend to put them in a glass-case, as a memento of the most exciting and foolish enterprise I ever attempted. Going to the mast-head, in a stiff "nor-wester," was nothing to it.