hour; and that when one faculty is employed it labors strangely, fiercely, madly, because the others have all withdrawn to give it unrestricted freedom. So our theory, without pretense as to profundity, without certainty as to originality, without confidence as to correctness, has, in spite of us, proposed itself. And now it becomes us to humbly implore pardon of the world's giant intellects for even approaching this mystery of mysteries, whose intricate knot has defied their dexterous fingers.

If our words have been true, then, to conclude, Dreamland is an accursed spot where the weary mind in vain seeks rest; a purgatory through which the tired soul must pass before it enters the paradise of sleep. Thrice blessed he who never dreams, who, when life becomes "as tedious as a twice-told tale," can pass through Dreamland undetained, to court "the honey-heavy dew, the poppied warmth" of "nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." Heaven be praised for an escape from every care; God giveth His beloved sleep. "The brother of Death," says quaint Sir Thomas Browne, "exacteth a third part of our lives."

Concerning the Fence.

THE persuasive and philanthropic photographer advises us, in nitrate of silvery tones, to "secure the shadow ere the substance fades," and it is with the desire of saving the shadow of the College fence before destruction razes it, and of preventing the historian of our Alma Mater from passing lightly over it, as Remus did to his sorrow, in a similar case, that we pen these lines. The origin of our fence is enveloped in the mists of the seventeenth century. We know, however, that the post holes were dug at Saybrook in the year 1700, and as we saw some half dozen of these apertures yawning frightfully at early dawn a few days since, it is fair to presume that they were removed to New Haven, with the College, a hundred and fifty years ago. But as we saw at that time nothing in these holes to interest the general reader, we pass hastily to the fence proper. (By Fence Propper, we do not refer to the respected, but lamented College carpenter.) The founders of the institution sat. long and earnestly upon the plan of the fence. It was finally decided to build it strong and simple, as befit

ting the line of demarcation between the cultivated grounds of the College and the barren waste of the outside barbarian world; three rails high on three sides of the enclosure, and of boards closely joined on the fourth. The rails were so made that their cross section was a diamond. A few still retain this shape, and are looked and sat upon with aversion. This was the place and instrument of punishment in those dark days. Dull students were seated there that they might become sharp set, and accustomed to the seats in Chapel. Their incorrigible dullness dulled the sharp edge of their three-barred grief, and in the course of time the rails became cylindrical; so torture became temptation, and even oration men thronged the perch. But the close board fence is still thought to fulfil its design. It was ordered by the Faculty, that if the Freshman Class should be beaten in the annual rush, those Freshmen who had been in the rear of the rushing column, should paint, in token of their defeat, at dead of night, in running colors, the number of their class upon the fence, on pain of expulsion, if, in the course of their artistic occupation, they should disturb the quiet of the College watchman. The rugged winters of the last century, warring against the fiery orthodoxy of the Congregational school, upheaved its bulwark with their heathenish frosts, and the weight of heavy students became necessary to hold it down. That they might not, in a moment of abstraction, slide like avalanches from its summit, the Faculty, with true Puritan grit, resolved to give it a coat of sand, and the students finding this wearing upon their patience and pantaloons, in a lengthy but pointed petition, besought their instructors to remove the sand; but sand is still there, and the petition is preserved in the College library, under the title of "Sand Paper."

But why harrow up our feelings by recalling the roughness of the past? With brighter students came brighter days for the College. The fence suffered a change with the politics of the Colonies, and was no longer simply the guardian of the College exclusiveness; it became democratic; it was a lower forum,-the roost of the bird of freedom. Here all classes, yes, even outsiders, were wont to gather to hear the ringing utterances of the apostles of liberty. Here town and gown recounted their several grievances, and settled them. Here David Humphrey exposed the intolerance and aristocratic narrowness of a certain literary society, and acquired his enduring title, “Par'nobile Fratrum." It was on this fence that Calhoun remained during his entire course, and thus arose the doubts in regard to his membership in one or the other of those rival societies.

10

Many events in the history of our country have been foreshadowed by our College disturbances. The fence was once a convention hall. The students, overwhelmed with the strong beer sold by the College Butler, came out arm in arm, and the fence felt them lean on it for support. They shed alcoholic tears, and inaugurated a bread and butter rebellion. But notwithstanding the College members kicked, the College Corporation survived. The House of Fellows proved too much for the House of Commons. Insubordination was quelled, and the boys went quietly in to prayers. Soon the bars of the old fence began to ring with music,-music rude, perhaps, but refreshing. When they rolled out "Gaudeamus," passers-by, however unclassic, knew that they were rejoicing. They loved Yale College, and they said so. Why don't we sing "Vivat Academia" now, as then? Is it because of our admiration for the taciturn female, who "never told her love?" "Lauriger," too, if not purer in morals, is superior in its poetry to "Here's to Good Old Rum!" At least its objectionable features are hidden by its untranslatable Latin.

But it is foreign to our history to cry for a revival of letters. Pat Malloy sings his sentimental story in a manner which would be interesting, if he belonged to Yale; but if his fifteen brothers, dissimilar to pigs, will stay at home, we expect Beethoven beneficence to pay that rent. The Ethiopian fiddler, too, has helped our morality. The first scraping of his strings was sole-stirring, and always brought a delighted crowd to the fence, where they were soon relieved of all temptation to court fortune by the pitch of the uncertain copper.

These musical soirees, if they did not give it birth, at least nourished and strengthened that healthy mutual admiration and respect which is the soul of all college happiness. There was hardly room for the indulgence or display of petty passions on the narrow fence; but when the College Song was shaken up, those rails would blossom, like Aaron's rod, into some such flowers as the Last Rose of Summer," or the 66 Sweet Potato Vine." After all, we'll dash sentiment, and advocate all College Songs, of any time or air, if always it be open air.

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Students of Ethnology will be gratified to learn, that traces of the lost ten tribes of Israel have been discovered near the fence. If the day is fine, large numbers of these Jews, attired in a manner of modest magnificence, may be seen there conversing affably with the students, Gentiles, who apparently consider them their dearest friends; in fact so great is the veneration in which a certain tribe is held, that the boys are constantly heard appealing to its ancient founder, and

the name of B. Gad is on every tongue. This regard is reciprocal, so that these favored people of high birth and long and ancient line, (we mean the old clothes line,) never despise even that student who wears a ragged coat. But we fear that this friendship is unstable. To be sure these itinerants bring greenbacks, but so do the worms. They are arrayed in sheep-skin, like a drum, and like it they are hollow. Beware of these anti-porkers; buy not their watch-chains nor their meerschaums. The chains will color, but the meerschaums won't. Be not dazzled by the brilliancy of their diamond pins, or too late you may discover that they are merely Ju-ju-paste.

Daniel Pratt found in the fence a convenient auditorium. At its corner he has unfolded to listening and liberal crowds the mysteries of the laws of motion, by maintaining that a motion to adjourn was always in order. Daniel used to swing about the circle considerably in his harangues, but we are forced to believe that he will never live in the White House. He is too honest to be successful in political management. How much better it would be for the country if every politician was a non-est-man.

But the fence is passing away. The sturdy wood which was a pine cone two centuries ago, and has for a hundred and fifty years, by day and night, in storm and sunshine, guarded the College Green, must yield in the vigor of its age to the age of iron. There are dreadful rumors of a new fence of iron bars, to be sixteen feet and one inch high, just the distance an apple will fall in one second -g. Thus the new student will receive his first lesson in gravitation at his very entrance, and be spurred on to deeper research. And there is to be one great gate, which the street watch will close at the tick of twelve. How belated star-gazers will run down that watch! The south-east corner,-scene of many a wholesome revel,-is to be superseded by the new Museum. Let us hope that the old right angle will be taken up tenderly, and laid with care in some honorable place in the hall of curious things, that returning sons of Yale, as they rejoice at the increasing glory of their Alma Mater, may find it a substantial reminder of the simple pleasures of the College Fence.

Memorabilia Valensia.

Jubilee Committee.

J. M. ALLEN, C. H. GOODMAN, A. JOHNSON, of the Senior Class.

W. C. BRAGG, C. B. BREWSTER, N. P. S. THOMAS, E. J. TYTUS, of the Junior Class.

A. L. BROWN, A. CAMERON, W. C. CLARKE, C. H. SMITH, of the Sophomore Class.

R. JOHNSON, W. L. PALMER, E. G. SELDON, J. B. TYTUS, of the Freshman Class.

Linonia.

President-E. W. CLARKE, 422 Chapel Street.

Vice President-W. H. GOODYEAR, 11 S.

Secretary-S. B. COLT.

Vice Secretary-G. D. MILLER, 48 Howe Street.

Brothers.

President-IRA S. DODD, 105 N.

Vice President-BENJAMIN SMITH, 192 C.

Censor-W. H. INGHAM, 58 S. M.

Secretary-J. COFFIN, 75 N. M.

Vice Secretary-S. T. TERRY, 3 S.

Matrimonial.

SPRAGUE-FELLOWS.-On Wednesday, Oct. 31st, at Hudson, N. Y., Sprague, late of the Class of '67, to Abbie Fellows.

Yale Literary Prize Essay.

F. N.

The undersigned Committee award the Yale Literary Medal to the writer of the Essay on Sidney Smith.

CYRUS NORTHROP,
ARTHUR W. WRIGHT,
ALBERT E. DUNNING.

The accompanying envelope contained the name of HENRY MORTON DEXTER.