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of it, as to attempt to gain a knowledge of the character of any particular “ Beman," from the words that precede it. These names have no appropriate character, and we are astonished that a man of Sterne's experience should ever have proposed a theory so absurd. Therefore, reader, we trust that you will not again trouble us with your ridiculous request for the names of our contributors. No! we fully agree with our fair questioner, that this theory of names is both ridiculous and absurd. Yet will we hold that there is one single sweet exception to the rule; we know not how it is that there ever belongs a gentle, angelic disposition to Mary. Still this will not aid you, inquisitive reader, for we solemnly assure you that Mary is the name of neither of our most • noble contributors. .

Some lazy Sene, during a sudden burst of excitement, hath wrung the College Bellfrom the depths of his lethargic mind and hastened to us to beg his dear Editors to make it known to the world. The dear Editors cannot resuse.

THE COLLEGE BELL.
De gustibus non est disputa ndum.--HORAC .

THE FRESHMAN.
It ringeth, it ringeth-the matin bell-
And biddeth us drink from the crystal well,
From the crystal well and the sparkling fount,
That glimmers 0: Learning's rock-based mount.
O'er valley and meadow and sun-lit dell
It ringeth, it riogeth, the matin bell.

THE SOPHOMORE.
It ringeth, it ringeth! Confound the bell,
For the morning is dark as a hermit's cell,
And Tutors alone from their slumbers creep,
Their consciences trouble them: they can't sleep.
I'm tired and weary, I don't feel well,
Yet up I must get. 0! blast that bell! '

THE JUNIOR.
It ringeth, it ringeth-the clanging bell,
And awfully clear its loud notes swell,
No hopes of slumber its rattlings leave,
For the Devil is in it, I do believe.
Confound the metal! it vibrates well,
And noisily ringeth the clangiug bell.

THE SENIOR.
It ringeth, it ringeth-the tinkling bell,
Like the prisoned tones of an ocean shell,
But the murmuring notes scarce reach my ear,
For gentle-eyed Slumber is lingering near.
Thy tones have lost their magical spell,
Then ring till your metal splits-tinkling bell.

One of our antiquarian contributors has, in his researches, recently wandered into the paternal ash-hole. Lost in contemplation, he imagined himself 'standing on the precincts of another world, whereof the clay floor was the ground work and the arched roof, the heavenly concave, studded with soot-spots as is the firmament with stars. Determined to explore the nature of this singular realm, and advancing still further, he fancies that, in the ashes strewn over the surface, he beholds the inhabitants. On his knees he had been studiously learning their several natures and raking one sort after another from the main heap, has likened them to the characters in his own world. He has just raked up and disposed of potash in a fitting analogy, and now pearlash meets his eye-but hear himself discourse, for he has an odd and, now and then, an apt fancy of his own —“Let us now introduce you to a near relation of this last character, coming from the same paternal stock, though somewhat modified in

his developments by external circumstances. You see him there a gentle seeming, smooth faced man, looking for all the world as though his heart's blood were a purified extract of honey, such is his sweetness. Happy, yea, thrice happy inan is he, honored by the acquaintance of such an one. Doubtless he is the favorite of all his friends, their beau-ideal of an amiable character. Come let us speak with him,-Gracious Heaven ! what a cross grained specimen of humanity! “Noli me tangere,” he snarls out and off he goes. Well, cynical friend Diogenes, our theory has purposely a variety for you, even though no gem, you shall be called pearlash. You are not so very useless either. You answet well to correct the sourness of better men, and to raise up their heavy hearts. In truth, we could not get along without you, we should not appreciate a light hearted man; did you not exist, our cakes would be all dough."

" The Judgment of Paris.” It is with much regret that we notice a recent publication bearing this title. We had scarce expected to see these old walls, ennobled by the inemory of men and devoted to the culture of manly accomplishment, desecrated by the presence of those who could reciprocate a family's kindness by the revelation of their firesida secrets, and serve up that for a mockery which the honor of a gentleman must ever hold sacred--a woman's confidence. As the production of a thoughtless moment, it might have passed unnoticed, had not the author or authors boasted of that for which a man should have blushed with shame, by issuing it a second time in pamphlet form ; but we forbear, our abhorrence has been sufficiently expressed, and in that expression, we think we do but assert the common college feeling of injured pride, for the connection of our student name with aught so dishonorable.

And now, reader, bless the Lord, we have done! and in conclusion, to all that advice which has been so lavishly thrust upon you, we would add ours, and we sadly and solemnly advise you, that whatever you may decide in respect to valedictories, now, upon the threshold of college life, firmly and solemnly resolve never to become an Editor-of the Yale Lit.

OUR EXCHANGES. The first two numbers of the Amherst “ Indicator” are before us. It is not with common feelings that we read its motto,

" Alii multa perficiunt, nos nonnulla conamur :

Illi possunt: nos volunms :" As students, we rejoice in the revival of a college magazine among those treading the same paths of learning and possessing like feelings; but as “ five guardian priests” we sympathize more nearly with their pleasures and labors, who exercise a similar guardiavship, while we are pleased with that youthful vigor and buoyant life-like expression, which it his been our aim to revive in our own pages. Go on then! is brothers five" of Amherst, and, if a voice of sympathy from our little " sanctum" in the bosom of old Yale can cheer your midnight labors, you have it right heartily; and when, in the dearth hour of contribution and subscription, your eye glances timidly at the device " nos volunms—we'll try,” look again boldly and you will see a “macte virtute-on and prosper,” from us, written close after it. Long may your numbers continue to grace our table—they will ever be welcome.

We are sure of forgiveness, while we tear this little beauty-fragment from the symmetry of their pages.

" Love's alphabet, Jenny, I teach you in vain,

In vain, every letter I quote,
For, believe me, too soou that's forgotten again
Which is merely repeated by rote.

* * * * * * *
If you wish me your tutor, first I you'll select

Beyond all the rest to esteem,
By day you must constantly I recollect,

By night 'tis of I you must dream.
Let the next then be L, with which life is begun,

(That 'tis ended so, heaven forbid !)
Add an 0, and a V, aud E-ah! you've done

Already, the task I have bid.

Ah! Jenny, I know that my meaning you scan,

For your eyes tell that now you attend,
But though this fond vision 'twas I that began,
It is U that must give it an end.

* * * * * * *
I love you, my teaching amounts to but this,

This is all I wish to impart-
Reward then my lesson, dear girl, with a kiss,

And repeat it, as I do, by heart." The “ Literary Record and Journal,” conducted by a committee of the Linnean Association of Pennsylvania College, is no less welcome to our table. But this stands in need of no encouragement from us, as it is already nearing its fifth volume. In it we notice an artiche on latin conjugations, from the pen of Prof. Gibbs of Yale College.

These are our only exchanges—we would be glad to increase their number. We would be proud to count among them every periodical, conducted by those of our own age, throughout the whole country, and more especially those by the students of our several colleges. They are widely separated, and there is little in common between them. Happy would we be to lend one link to bind them more closely to each other, and that link an interchange of our several magazines. We would learn from them whether there existed the same sympathies, the same student seeling, as among ourselves. From their successes, we would gain knowledge useful to the further prosperity of our own, while from our more extended experience they might, perhaps, gather some hints as to the more effectual direction of their efforts. They will do us a favor then, who send us a copy of any college magazine and may expect a prompt recip, rocation on our part.

Among others, none would gratify us more than “ The Collegian” of the University of Virginia. Our library contains its bound numbers, and their perusal has already shortened a lonely hour. If it still be in existence, we would be much pleased to see it again on our table.

With the “ Lowell Offering” we should also be happy to exchange. As also with the “ New England Offering."

The “ Albany Rose” has, they tell us, drooped and died, but may it not blooin fresh as ever beneath the tender care of a lady's hand. We would add its fragrant beauty to the gracing of our poor editorial table. Throw us the posy, fair girls, and we will tax our sweetness to thank you filly.

TO OUR CONTRIBUTORS. “ Mrs. Childs' Letters" are accepted, but we must beg the author, when he again contributes, (as we hope he soon will,) to be more careful both in the use and in the spelling of his words, since we cannot consent to perform the drudgery of the school. master in addition to the severe labors of editing.

“The Taking of the Holy Sepulchre” also appears in this number. We must enjoin upon the author that the medium of the post-office will be necessary to the acceptance of any future communication.

· Fancy” is rejected decidedly. The two of our number, “who are professed lovers of fine poetry,” are unable to appreciate that quality in the author's first effusion.

" Ashes," at least the unconsidered part of them, have, at the request of the author, been " tenderly" consigned to the coffin. “Ashes to ashes-dust to dust—will the Editors not take you—the Sexton must." Yet we would not “ break the heart” of Solomon Scriptor, for in raking over the dry material, our Sexton turned up a few bright sparks that might have fired even the dull contents of the coffin. One of them wo have dropped into our table, where we do not think the like danger exists. The same author, on a more interesting subject, would, most likely, find acceptance with the Quintumvirate.

We must beg our readers and his reverence, to excuse the omission of the usual pun on the devil's name.

After this, positively, no notice will be taken of articles not communicated through the post-office, and anonymously.

The authors of the several pieces may obtain their manuscript by calling upon the editor of that No. in which thev ara noblished.

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