of cloud,' shutting off the distracting world, when his mind was wrestling with thought-will join with the poet in his eulogy "Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doctors' spite; TO MY CIGAR. What though they tell, with phizzes long, And oft, mild friend, to me thou art Thou'rt like the man of worth, who gives pore, Oft as thy snowy column grows, I trace how mighty realms thus rose, A while, like thee, earth's masters burn, From beggar's frieze to monarch's robe, Sweet nature's works, the swelling globe, And what is he who smokes thee now ?— That soon like thee to fate must bow, But though thy ashes downward go, But enough on Smoking. We would remark in conclusion,' that we are out of cigars!.....THE CHOLERA of 1832 appeared in New Haven on the 11th of July. It The number of remained in the City for 50 days. The number of cases was 44. deaths was 17. It did not enter College, nor disturb its regular session. The City has, thus far, been almost entirely exempt from the Cholera of 1849. Still the 'chánces and changes of this mortal life' seem to be exceedingly multiplied around us. Fevers and a malignant dysentary are prevalent, sometimes as fatal as the grim 'pestilence that walketh in darkness,' and it behoves men to take especial care of themselves, now, when the earth and the air and all things seem to be pregnant with the seeds of death......OUR CORRESPONDENTS are as humorous as they are innumerable. Their effusions bubble up with the most refreshing nonsense and the most exquisite agitations of wit; all confidential' of course! Listen to this Rhyming Lesson;' it is as ' funny as funny can be,' and as laconic and pithy as our dog's tail, which, by the way, we recently abbreviated: Stick to your aim, as flies stick to molasses, As bull dogs stick to cows, as sugar sticks to glasses! In eating dinner, fast not for the pie; It may not come, it may be sour and dry. Eat what's before you, whether clams or chickens, Live in the present, or else go to the-dickens! Look out for the engine while the bell rings! Slap dab the misquito just when he stings! Never knock a man down when you're flat on your back; ANOTHER correspondent, in an elaborate paper upon the Greatness of our Country,' has this beautiful thought :- Great men stand like towers above, while small men stand like towers below!'-We suppose that he means shot towers. ' B. G.' is informed that we have read Poetry 'some,' and that we are quite confident that all the poetical capabilities of The Modest Toad stool' and The Gentle Dandelion,' have been already exhausted by Mrs. Sigourney and Mrs. Childs-who says that a black boy is 'the living gospel of Freedom bound in black !'-(very fine)—and a score or more of boarding-school misses' of all ages and sexes.' But if we are wrong, we will publish your sonnets. JONAS,' you are not original! The 'Epigram' which you send is older than the oldest inhabitant! If you propose to 'do' any more, you had better pay the postage! But, passing the rascality, the Epigram is good enough to print again : 6 "It rained a deluge. Joseph reached home late ; 6 LARGE quantities of 'learned lumber' are piled up in our Sanctum, chiseled and seasoned, and ready and fit to contribute to the construction of another-the FIFTEENTH VOLUME of this Magazine. But whether this Volume shall be constructed or not, depends entirely upon you who read, not at all upon us who write. We are willing to undergo all toil and drudgery to carry our YALE LIT. through another year, but we cannot undergo the pecuniary expenses. We are willing to drain our poor brains, and that too, without thanks or sympathy, but we cannot drain our purses. You inust give us money sufficient to publish the MAGAZINE, or we must stop the Press. We should be very loath to do the latter, yet, if you look at the matter aright, you could not expect us to do otherwise. 250 paying subscriptions are necessary to meet the expenses of publishing a VOLUME of the YALE LIT.....IN the table of CONTENTS of this Volume, a few articles are entered' Anonymous.' The authors of some of these articles have never sent us their cards; the authors of others prefer the honors of the Great Unknown.' PEGASIDES EPHIPPOS is evidently one of 'em.'....THE author of the interesting paper, Modern Researches in Etruria,' commenced in No. VI, has not yet furnished us with its continuation.. . . . WE have tried every way to lug into this TABLE the cant phrases 'our Maga'—' our beloved Maga'—' dear Reader'—' gentle Reader'-&c. &c., but we can't do it-(horrible pun, sir, but accidental.)....EDITOR No. 4 has just tapped at our door, to say that he has more than a bushel in store, of wit running o'er, and puns by the score; which he has long kept in pickle as sharp as a sickle, on purpose to tickle all tastes that are fickle! He's a right funny fellow, not a spot on him 's mellow, nor with age is he yellow; and his armor is sheen, and his wit is so keen that fat people grow lean, and the gravest old dean splits his side with a scream; and sedate No. 1 folds up his old pun, and avers that he's done,' as he jumps up to run; and No. 2 falls to blowing, for he's full to o'erflowing, and there's no room for stowing; and tall No. 5 to the floor makes a dive, and is roaring so loud that a curious crowd in the street raise a clatter to know what's the matter; and through the sash opened, No. 3 thrusts his head, and repeats to the folk No. 4's tearing joke; and away run the boys and the dogs and the people, and out peal the bells from each church-tower and steeple, and up comes a breeze that blows down the trees, and overturns houses, and splits open trowses, and scatters all dirts, and outturns all skirts; and of the town, full one half are crazed with the laugh; and horses are neighing, and mastiffs are baying, and babies have fits, and loud mew the kits, and men saw* their legs, and spoilt are the eggs in the market-man's stand, and milk *Reference is here made to the old Roman custom 'saw off my leg !' at the delivery of a good joke. Consult Achpsneezetummguzzle, Tom. 842, page 7963, passim, &c. Lon. Ed. straightway curdles, and old maids break their girdles all over the land, as onward o'er mountain and moor the joke flies, till, fatigued with the journey, it—staggers— and-dies!....We have before us a copy of the Valedictory Poem and Oration, ("Poem and the Valedictory Oration,") delivered before the Senior Class, July 3d, 1849. Our first thought is, that had our printer published these productions, they would have been issued with fewer typographical errors and flashy touches of type and ink. But never mind the shells. The gems lie inside. The Oration is abridged, and it improves much on acquaintance. The Poem has lost none of the beautiful influences that attended its fine delivery. The eloquent addresses to the Rocks-East and West, to the Bay, to the Elms of the College Lawn, and to the Old College Halls, will insure their author 'a remembrance and a name,' as long as those 'twin giants' shall keep their sentinel watch over the city, or the 'broad Bay' shall float a shallop, or the dark Elms' cast a shadow, or the old Halls' be noisy with the earnest toil' of mind. "Gray rocks, by Heaven's own arches spanned, Though stern the fate your dark lips tell, Why in the world the Dark elms, beneath whose emerald dome Old halls, through which the whirling tide Printing Committee' issued so small an edition (300) of these works, nobody knows. Every one wants duplicates of this, the best Valedictory Poem of our College, but none are to be had!....As we write the last words in this last number of this Fourteenth Volume, we are reminded of our arrival at another distance post' in our college course. That young Eteruity,' which this four-years journey seemed to be when we entered upon it, is really coming to an end. The 'college generation,' upon whose heels we have closely pressed, is deserting us; and the light that streams in at the open door, through which it is passing out into the world, kindles within us a desire to leap forth, also, "Amid the massive enginery of life, Where brawny Labor wields the ponderous sledge And Genius works with harnessed elements, Amid the stunning chaos of the world!" And yet we sometimes feel reluctant to go. We are persuaded that no happier days await us, than these college days. When they are gone, cares will scowl and responsibilities hang upon us. But these will make the MAN; and even their loss will, in turn, sadden the spirit no less than the loss of these college days. "Why is my spirit sad? Because, 'tis parting, each succeeding year, With something that it used to hold more dear Than aught that now remains ; Because the Past, like a receeding sail, Flits into dimness, and the lonely gale 735 |