ing, cordially greeted one another, after our manner, with "How do y' do, Mr. Sallust, glad to see you-beautiful morning;" while the Idealist views them standing apart, and with god-like majesty, and in heroic language, proposing salutations like sum pius Æneas. The former thinks, of course, that Cicero wore a beaver, and a fine onethe latter is astonished to hear that he had any necessity for one, as though the rain would dare to beat upon the brow of Cicero !

Perhaps we should now confess, to render our classification com. plete, that, in addition to these whose views are so plainly erroneous, there is another class of students, and that, too, highly respectable in point of numbers, who can be accused of no specific opinions whatever in regard to antiquity.

Talking about the men of antiquity, was not Julius Cæsar, as a man of the world, if such an expression be tolerated, the greatest of them all? As a general, he had all the tenacity of will, all the unshaken purpose of soul that distinguished Hannibal, while, at the same time, he combined the towering ambition and the restless, unlimited enterprise of Alexander. In tactics, the latter could have taught him nothing in intrepidity, nor the former in shrewdness and perseverance. And in that intuitive genius which takes in everything at a glance, grasps at once the whole nature of a crisis, and teaches where the dextrous hand shall strike and where caress, he was inferior to none that ever lived. It was this that made the Prince of Conde say, were Julius Cæsar back again, he would conquer all our generals." But look at him in other lights as a writer, remarkable for the severity of his taste and his elegant conciseness-as a pleader and orator, second among his contemporaries only to Cicero himself-as a lover of science, professing a readiness in the midst of a campaign to abandon all his schemes and go in search of the fountains of the Nile-as a benefactor of science, originating the invaluable reform in the Roman Calendar.

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Such was he, in brief, as a man of intellect. Of his moral character, we confess an utter inability to decide. The most generous clemency appears side by side with an unscrupulous waste of human lives, an engaging frankness with profound dissimilation, a sincere love of friends and family with a tyrannical sway over all around him. But we can hardly believe him to have been so bad as the majority of historians and commentators represent. We know that, leaving out of view his own pre-eminence, he planned only the noblest projects for his country-we know that he was loved almost to adoration by many of his best contemporaries, and we are assured by Plutarch, at least, that the Divine Power followed his assassins with avenging hand over earth and sea, till every single one had perished no less signally than Cassius, who kept the bloody dagger for his own bosom, or Brutus, who was summoned to his fate by a shadowy visitant.

We fear there is not so much pride in all that at present relates to our own institution, nor so lively an interest in its sons, whatever may

have been their date of graduation, as our relations as pupils and fellow-students might reasonably warrant. We are aware how it is in Germany. There, a student feels a wound upon the honor of his university, as a personal degradation. When he has gone out from its walls, he makes its prosperity and reputation the constant objects of his solicitude and exertions. He looks back upon the days spent in its secluded pursuits with almost a romantic interest. It was the golden period of his life, which the unthinking buoyancy of youth and the kindling hopes of manhood, the delights of inpouring knowledge and of congenial intercourse with kindred spirits, have brightened and sanctified with blended influences in his memory forever. Nor alone in his memory--his heart has thence woven its dearest ties. From an affectionate interest in the companions of his student days, no diversity of occupations, no changes of fortune, no antagonism in politics or literature have the least power to wean him. But, not only do his sympathies embrace the contemporaries of his collegiate life,-proud is he when he can exult in the success of any worthy artificer in any department of intellectual action with, "he was of my university

The same feeling prevails to nearly an equal extent among the English students. Byron, amid his eventful and stormy life, says he could never bring himself to quarrel with any of his schoolmates. And the present Cantab or Oxonian will proudly point you out the distinguished members of Parliament which belonged to his University, and give you a minute account of their standing and reputation as students. A common love towards their Alma Mater, binds all in fraternal sympathy.

Now, why has it become too fashionable among us to make nearly everything about us the subject of disparaging and abusive criticism? One might imagine that a course of study perfectly useless and ridicu lous had been prescribed for our torment, and that a set of knaves had been appointed to enforce it-that we had somehow been condemned to a sort of literary Botany Bay, and that all who have gone out from it, are to be congratulated only for having made a fortunate escape. We know, well enough, that very much of this is feigned and often occupies nearly the same place in college conversation that the "horrid weather" does in other circles of society; but sometimes it has a real meaning, and always its tendency is bad. It encourages a boyish way of thinking, and prevents us from taking that liberal view of our position which is so apparent to all others. It leads to an uneasy discontent, and often to a willful neglect of many important advantages. But does it not show a worthy independence of mind, a laudable sense of personal rights, a noble freedom from degrading servility? Perhaps so-but would not a voluntary withdrawal express all this more effectually? There would certainly be a greater appearance of consistency in it.

But no one, who reflects a moment, will fail to see that if the fault be not in ourselves, our present connections to us, are fruitful only in pleasure, brightening hopes and permanent profit; while annoyances, perplexing duties and disquieting responsibilities must fall entirely to

the lot of others. He must see, too, that all unmanly complaints and strictures but swell the amount of the latter and diminish the former. Our common ties as students, united in the same pursuits, sharing a common object, animated by the same hopes, should discountenance the error of which we speak. Separated, as it were, from the world, we are all, to a certain extent, the object of its hopes and the marks of its prejudices. A kindred feeling then, should never forsake us. Wherever and whenever a son of Yale achieves superiority in anything worthy of man's attention, our sympathies and our joy should mingle in the congratulations of his triumph. Nor should we allow ourselves to forget or lightly to esteem this institution, which, while dispensing the treasures of invaluable knowledge and fitting us for the inevitable duties of life, is weaving around us these enduring ties and loading these passing hours with golden associations, never to be buried amid the thickest cares of coming years.

In whatever other respect we may undervalue our college, we are convinced that no one can deny it a pre-eminent notoriety in the glorious art and practice of punning! It is in this that, to adopt the words that used to appear on the cover of our honored work, "we confess we take an honest pride." In this point-the point of puns-how low in comparison is the rank of Harvard, and Princeton, and Western Reserve! We need not refer to the brilliant examples which have descended orally from former college generations, like the choicest gems of early minstrelsy-we need not mention those side-splitting specimens which have been "got off" in our days, and, perhaps, by ourselves. And, by the way, reader, when you and I have done something rather nice in that line, haven't we enjoyed it, though?— how near we came to bursting with internal laughter while our companions, affecting to groan and shouting "awful," "horrid," we knew, were trying in vain to get up something better! Do you talk of the "triumphs of intellect"? if you refer to punning, we know what you mean. And yet Dr. Webster, who was so intimately acquainted with the college, after defining the word pun, observes, "a low species of wit"! Well, perhaps, the practice was not perfected in his day. Perhaps, also, and the thought is sorrowful, those rigid intellectual pursuits in which he spent his life, may have prevented him from fully appreciating a pun, just as college studies kill out native genius.

We might attempt to classify and arrange the different kinds, which come under the various species embraced by the genus PUN-a work which no writer before us, as far as we are aware, has ever accomplished. For instance, we might treat of the Pun Historical, the Pun Scientific, the Pun Colloquial, and the Pun Miscellaneous, which latter head is quite comprehensive. Either, like Locke, we might resort to children, savages and idiots, to see what idea they have of a pun, or, like Cousin, we might investigate puns as they actually exist, and then ascend to their origin, that is, for the lower classes may not comprehend us, to consider them psychologically and to adjourn the ontological question. We might go to ancient times, away back to the Pelasgic races, and note the first faint dawnings of the pun upon the

world; and thence trace it in its ascending glory to "the highest heaven of invention." We might contemplate it as a mighty instrument of power over the popular mind. In this view we might show it to have been the tremendous lever which gave the first impulse to the former French Revolution; for it is recorded by Thiers that the first idea of summoning the States-general, was struck into the minds of the deputies by a pun (which will not bear an adequate translation into English) uttered by one of the members. Think of it a moment! All France groping in the darkness of oppression-eager eyes straining in every direction for light-despair beginning to exert its benumming power, when lo! a pun blazes forth in Parliament-it shines over Paris-it flickers with a death-glare upon the walls of the palace-it flames away across the whole country to Marseilles-it lights up the Pyrenees-eureka bursts from awakened millions, and then the fearful drama comes ! We might we might do several things which we shall not do, so we will close this list of possibilities, which looks rather like a boasting of our own powers, than a handling of the matter with which we set out.

But we cannot avoid making a distinction in puns of an obviously practical nature. In our estimation, a pun may be merely verbal—a superficial play upon words without the least substratum of meaning-the thought being tortured and killed off to make a jingling in the ear. As every one with a little practice can become an adept at this, it is fearfully prevalent in this section of our common country, and, “to use a homely, but expressive phrase," is an intolerable nuisance. When you remark to a person "this is a fine day," and he replies, " perhaps so, but I am not accustomed to re-fine upon such matters"- —or to your inquiry about the time, he observes "that's a time-ly question," depend upon it, that man flings in your teeth a downright, deliberate insult, and if you overlook it, you have a milder disposition than we trust has been committed to our keeping.

But a genuine, vital pun, never interrupts the thought, but gives it a new and surprising and agreeable aspect. It is a quaint and grotesque mouth-piece to a fountain, which throws the free water in some beautiful curve or unexpected jet; while the other kind is a mere tawdry ornament both unsightly and useless. Observe these specimens taken almost at random from the good, queer, quizzical, immortal Tom Hood, the Punster-King.

This, in which the impatient angler queries in regard to the finnytribe, who seem to have "lost their appetite," might be ranked under the head of the Pun Historical :

"But they seem upon different terms now.

Have they taken advice

Of the Council of Nice'

And rejected the 'Diet of Worms,' now?"

This must be one of the medical species under the Pun Scientific:

"Down fell the crew, and on their knees

Shuddered at each white swelling."

This is good enough to go without any name. It is an account of a

duel.

And, finally, the Author makes a candid confession upon certain points:

"I own I shake my sides at ranters,

And treat sham-Abram saints with wicked banters,

I even own, that there are times-but then

It's when I've got my wine-I say d

-canters!

There is a species of wit, to which we have seen no name applied, that is by no means so contemptible as some might imagine. It is always characterized by a happy misspelling, and the plot of the thing may either be the blundering of ignorance in trying to handle matters above its comprehension, or a simple mistake which has a ludicrous and apparently unintentional connection with the subject. Of the former, Dr. Valentine has given some very amusing specimens in the character of the "ignorant literary lady," who in her library desires John to "fill up those spasms on the shelves and make this room look like a conversationario." Something quite good also in the same style has been going the rounds of the papers under the auspices of Mrs. Partington, who, for instance, in giving her experience of ghosts and spirits, says--" there has sartainly been two apprehensions seen in our family." This, too, in a colonial letter, (which, like the remainder, is from one who was a master of all kinds of wit,) is certainly not indifferent" We have white Swons but they have not any cygnetures." Of the latter kind, a capital instance is in a letter from a servant-maid detailing the awful dissensions which were rending the village of Stoke Pogis, and which she thinks might have been avoided by "a little timely concussion on the part of the mayor." But this, in its way, is unapproachable, being from the narrative of a green sailor: "We saw plenty of grampus, but they was useless to all intents and porpusses."