by College music is in cultivating refinement. Familiarity with beauty cannot fail to refine the character, whether it be the beauty of nature or its copy in art; the beauty of the imagination as seen in poetry, or of music which addresses the soul through the ear. Most of us are away from the refining influences of home, and shut out, to a great extent, from the world around, communing with books and with our own hearts. It is both necessary and well that it should be so; for not in the busy scenes of life, but in the cloister, is the mind best trained to activity. The danger is, lest our hearts become dry and barren ground for want of the dew and the sunshine which cannot so well find entrance there. All influences which will make them blossom and bear the fruits of a genuine humanity should be carefully cultivated; and such an influence is exerted by College music. T. s. w.

3d Finem Fidelis.

On! through the black-arched gateways of the night,
Shadowed by sable wings,

With firm endeavor and undaunted might

Toward the golden portals of the light
Where victory sits and sings.

Brave heart; though gloomy and though dark thy way
Through the dim, star-lit land,

Lo, even now appears the herald ray,

That waves the banner of the dawning day
Aloft, with flashing hands.

Courage! press on! all time is not as now,
Determined, steadfast, calm;

The end is soon; be faithful; so shalt thou
Bear on thy battle-scarred yet noble brow,
The well-won victor's palm.

And thou, whose life by some fell blow defaced,
Sittest apart in gloom,

Rise! be no longer in the world misplaced,

Although the night is long and thou disgraced,

Within the light is room.

S. W. D.

Radicalism in College.

"Life is real, life is earnest," expressed about College in every variety of cantation, sacred and profane, is a truth too trite to be called common, and too axiomatic to be gainsayed. As one of those delightful generalities which embrace all philosophies in a breath, it meets our unqualified approval; as one of those "fearful realities" which the gentleman next door would do well not to disregard, it is superlatively just; but as a fact for our own contemplation, it is of quite an altered character-vague, poetical-perhaps with even a tinge of mysticism about it. This trait, curious as it is, and observable in us, exists with another equally curious-that we feel our individuality too intensely. The universe is intuitively divided into two grand divisions-we, and all other created things. For us, dynasties have arisen and been overthrown; theories laboriously constructed and refuted. The muse of history chants a sublimer stave with us as listener, and the stars surge onward more contentedly now that they have us as spectator. If through meditation or comparison, we can gradually get to the conclusion that we are nothing, we shall then have reached the firm foundation on which we can begin to build our character; if we begin sooner, we may expect every year to see our belief come down. For as some writer has said that we are "near waking when we dream that we are dreaming," so we can safely assert that we are never so truly wise as when we believe ourselves utterly foolish and insignificant.

From these two causes result the radicalism which seems to give, at present, a coloring to College sentiment. It is not seen in open infidelity, for that exists here hardly at all; nor is it in immoral conduct, for I question if, in any College in New England, a more severe standard of character has been set up than at Yale. The feeling I am speaking of is not demonstrative. It comes upon us quietly. While in our rooms, gazing into our fires, at such times it pleads its cause and secures its converts. Select any acquaintance of sober habits, and talk to him upon something beside the last recitation, and you will be almost sure to detect the weak spot in his creed or platform. If we take a subject for discussion in our Society, or before our Professor, such as 66 Is it ever right to lie?" "Is suicide ever justifiable?" or "Ought a man to obey a law which his conscience condemns ?"—we invariably defend the liberal side. Heresy in our composition, like conventional wickedness in a beau, is indispensable to even approxi

mate excellence. We become undisguisedly ironical toward opponents at such times, and have a vocabulary of explosive adjectives, which we append to their arguments and touch off upon every occasion. We talk loudly of "the spirit of the age," and hint that "old things have passed away," when alas, our own action is incontestably proving that one of the oldest things under the sun-boyish bravado-is still extant and efficient. Search our motives and we shall find, in nineteen out of twenty cases, that eccentricity of judgment springs from pride. Cover it we may with nicely-joined arguments and finelywrought theories, yet this is generally the cause. Indeed, I can imagine few human misfortunes more grievous than to be born with fair talents and a domineering ambition. Such an one approaches manhood, and sees with a pitiable indecision, great questions crowding upon him for explanation. With too little intellect to comprehend beyond their significance, with too much intellect to be blind to errors which are not perceived by a duller mind, he has just enough intellect to be lamentably uncertain about everything. Too proud to take from others anything he will believe, too shallow to originate anything he can believe, the wretch wanders homeless, without the self-applause of the distinguished reprobate, or the humility of the simple disciple. Thus springs up an aristocracy which tolerates only itself. We worship in a temple sacred to us alone. At its altar, perchance, we may endure to be ministered unto by Carlyle, or Parker, or Dickens, but let no meaner voice presume to recite from our oracles. We crave something splendid or extraordinary; we take every traveler in fine clothes for a prince at least, and have not yet become skilled to recognize royalty in poor attire. We see nothing divine in a simple truth, even though it has survived every sophism, and proved the ultimate motive in a thousand heroic lives; but we turn an attentive ear to the mutterings of Goethe or Tennyson, and think them wise because we cannot understand them.

Pride, I repeat, is the cause of our wandering. We may be as honest as our ambition will permit; we may scourge our selfishness into momentary obedience; but afterwards, when we have acted, we perceive that the stubborn faculty has slipped the leash and been chasing all manner of unclean game. We do not swing ourselves over Niagara's abyss, for we know that gravitation is a law of instant execution; yet, since thumb-screws, gags and water-tortures have been abandoned, every youngster in the land can babble enough blasphemy to have roasted all twelve of the Apostles. We forget to look ahead for the consequences in both civil and religious affairs. Anarchy in

prospect, alarms nobody, and the flames of hell-so distant are theymerely radiate sufficient warmth to give a zest to our investigations. Much too mournful is this for pert sarcasm or flimsy jest. How can it have escaped us that, in every mind, speculation is rapidly becoming faith; and that, at this rate, we shall enter upon life's responsibilities armed with our childish wonderings, instead of mature conviction; eminently unfit to act the part of a citizen or a man. You, sir, who sit upon the highest seat, and give promise of future distinction, are not so far above me, who sit upon the lowest, and at best will have nothing eloquent but my silence, that you need refuse to take from me a kindly meant admonition. You are the one whom the contagion first seizes, and your case is desperate in proportion to your prominence among your classmates. In whatever community you reside, you will, probably, in some way, speak to your neighbors. From the press or forum your thoughts will issue, inevitably to bear fruit of some quality and quantity, and if you continue after graduation your Student habits, you will make yourself a curse to society in no whit less intolerable than Hicks the pirate, and deserve to be removed from among your fellows as irrevocably as he. The saddest sight is such a character; at one time a staunch conservatist, who believes that "the Union " is the greatest of our national treasures; and again listening entranced and assenting to Phillip's eulogy upon John Brown.

I am looking at the subject from a worldly point of view, and it seems clear that what we want supremely here, is that spirit so vilified under the name of old fogyism. Let us be as ordinary as we can, stick to old forms and trust no innovation. The present reproaches the past with this, but it should confirm us in our determination. Look over the history of man, and you will find that every principle or custom we to-day value, was begotten in suffering; and I take it that modern civilization owes half of its glory and perfection to the discipline it has received at the hands of Ignorance. We need not to be reminded that the "desire for new things" appeared in the decay of Rome, but we know that France, at the close of the last century,— one of the few instances in which progress was solicited instead of avoided,―seemed more to ape the trifling of a harlequin than to obey the reason she professed to adore. Luther did not go about seeking opportunities of assailing existing institutions; on the contrary, he shrank from the dictates of his own conscience, he wrestled long and earnestly, he tried to compromise, and it was only when all else had failed that he proclaimed himself a reformer. The plain inference then from experience, is that if we are destined to be Lycurguses we

Besides we cannot

shall have early intimations of it from Delphi. exaggerate our risk in treating lightly such important matters. Sartor Resartus, and even such a small thing as Beulah, may drag its hero through the longest maze of doubt, and bring him safely to his journey's end; but we feeble folks cannot keep pace with such endurance.

The remedy for this mental disorder is simple and safe. "Common sense," observes a writer of authority, "is the genius of humanity." Hold fast to common, orthodox truths, and be afraid to trust that unknown sea of doubt which returns to its shore only dismantled wrecks. We hear much talk of facing and discomfiting one's doubts, but the severest method of resisting the devil, if we give caution a hearing, is not to look at him. We shall get enough of truth thus. The object of life, in this world of mystery, where are so many things hard to understand and little time to study them, is to take the faith which we can believe most firmly, in order that all possible opportunity may be left for performing those duties which constitute the primary object of existence, and alone can consecrate effort of any kind. To waste the morning and noon-tide of life in getting ready to live uprightly, is no more absurd in theory than in practice. Thorndale remarked in his isolation from the world, that the main defect in his previous life had been a neglect of familiar truths. These-old as virtue and sublime beyond conception-are enough to sustain us in every trial. True it is that we shall hereby mortify our vanity, but while judgment will be on our side, we shall also be taking the surest means of attaining to that nobility which a laudable ambition may well covet. "My friend, all speech and rumor is short-lived, foolish, untrue. Genuine work alone, what thou workest faithfully, that is eternal as the Almighty Founder and World-Builder himself. Stand thou by that; and let 'fame' and the rest of it go prating."

VOL. XXVI.