mighty in this third affliction which has fallen upon us as a class, we can not refrain from expressing sincere sorrow at the loss of a friend and classmate, whose amiable qualities had endeared him to all who knew him, and whose talent, combined with his exemplary Christian character, gave promise of much future usefulness.

Resolved, That we deeply sympathize with his family and friends in this afflictive dispensation, which has bereft them of one in whom their affections and hopes were centered.

Resolved, That as an expression of our sense of the bereavement which we have suffered as individuals and as a class, we wear the customary badge of mourning.

Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be presented to the family of the deceased; also, that they be published.

C. E. BROWNELL, Secretary.

J. S. BLATCHLEY, Chairman.

Editor's Table.

HERE we are, dear friends, flat on our back !-not with two bony fists clenched about our coat-collar, and a Herculean frame extended over us, with the face of a fiend and a couple of "peeled onions" glaring from the midst of it-no, nor on a pond of ice a foot thick, with a pair of newly-tried skates fastened to the perpendicular soles of our boots, a head somewhat indented on the backside, and a beautiful expanse of starry heavens above us, distinctly seen in spite of the sun-light; neither (though we have been, dear reader, in both conditions!)—but stretched on our "rosy couch," (and it is "bedewed," too, with a vengeance this morning!) rolled up in a perfect cocoon, like a silk-worm, with the use of neither hand nor foot, and but a very scanty chance for the eyes and nose to perform their appropriate functions. A funny condition for a free agent any how, and particularly for an editor to be writing his Table in. Nevertheless, sic est et nos sick sumus some (et etiam the pun) quanquam convalescens. But to "explain our position," as an editor ought, before we proceed farther, with the kind aid of a lovely and obliging amanuensis, [how very complimentary! but it's no use!—Amanuen.] we will state briefly how we came here. About twenty minutes ago we were awakened from the most delicious slumbers and celestial dreams, [wonder what they were about!—Aman.] by the entrance into our dormitory of our “man,” bearing in his hand a pail of cold water, wherein was submerged a sheet of unusual dimensions. Accustomed to his horrid appearing, we made no words, but gathering all the resolution repeated previous successes had given, we landed all steaming in the middle of the room, and there stood chattering in the "bracing atmosphere" of a frosty morning, while the said individual proceeded very deliberately to pile blankets on the couch till he appeared satisfied, (and ye gods, who would n't have been for we were nearly frozen,) then turning to the pail he drew forth the aforementioned sheet, soaked with the icy fluid, and coolly spreading it over the whole, quite as coolly requested us to cap the climax by throwing ourselves upon the heap, which we, out of sheer revenge, no less coolly did! and soon found ourselves

"Fixed beyond the power to start"

in the enveloping blankets.

Oh! then what "ugly sights," what freezing dreams
Went shivering o'er the prospect of our mind!
Appearing in confusion dismal and

Most drear, whole seas of ice and ice-bound ships,
Large streams and small, the river and the brook,
All frozen to the pebbles, white

And pulseless as the bodies of the dead;
Reindeers swift trotting o'er the Lapland snows,
And skaters skimming the Norwegian fields;

White polar bears a-scaling cliffs of ice,

And seals fast clinging to the slippery coast;

Snow-buts upon the blue Siberian hills

Whence fur-clad travelers moved with barking teams,

And, crashing through the slumb'ring vision cold,

The thundering iceberg with its gleaming top,

besides ten thousand other objects dreary beyond expression. At the appearance of the amanuensis whom we had engaged beforehand we gnashed our teeth in anguish, and were almost ready to vow that we would dietate never a word, unless it were to bid you farewell, and then commit suicide, [a precious thought-Aman.] but a moment's reflection showed us the impracticability of this conception, as none of our members save the teeth were at liberty, though they were sufficient at the moment to have destroyed any life save our own. But "about these days" we began to feel an alleviation in our circumstances, and the very prospect of better things banished at once all unpleasant ideas. Our sensations were like to those experienced in dreaming of a fall from some precipitous height: we had passed through all the horrors and apprehensions of the fearful plunge, and were now tasting the rapture of alighting, which instead of being upon a solid rock or floor, we found to be on a cushion of infinite and delicious elasticity! For a few moments we kept silence, wrapt in rapturous (another accidental pun, see Ed. Tab., vol. XIV, No. IX, p. 415) reveries, till at length, recollecting ourselves and turning our face thitherward we gave a pleasant smile to our kind friend, whose look of mournful solicitude [Oh, the deluded creature!—Aman.] at once disapproved, [the face being turned to the opposite direction!] and then proceeded to dictate what you have read, [not all of it!] And now, where shall we find the glowing language adequate to portray the delicious sensations in which we have been swimming since the wonderful change just mentioned? We have on diligent search found three comparisons, which after much painful hesitation on account of their total insufficiency to give the shadow of a true idea, we have at length consented to introduce as in some faint manner im aging ourselves. They are these: an infant sleeping at its mother's breast-a lover pillowed on his lady's bosom-[Oh! he must always lug that in!] and an angel dreaming on a summer-sunset cloud, all which we know to be very meager similes by experience, [bless me! no lady's bosom ever pil] save the last two, [ah, the last two!] having never had a sweetheart, [nor will any sooner for the pitiful look he gave me then,] nor slept upon a cloud-[nothing wanting as far as the angel is concerned?] The soothing, drowsy glow pervading the system is perfectly indescribable. Its effects upon the immaterial part are seraphic. The heart is gently yet copiously overflowing with love and good will to all mankind. If we have an enemy or a creditor in any one of you, dear readers, we beseech you accept our free and full forgiveness. Honestly, these are some of the most deliriously sweet moments of our life; the moral nature is in such heavenly tune, and the phys sical bathing, as it were, in seas of balmy rest. Ye brain-heated, ambition-fired,

soul-embittered, study-jaded, fever-heated sons of Yale, do n't ye envy us? Then let us beseech you, as soon as ever the necessities of health, or the dawn of vacation set you free from college manacles,

"To see what we have seen,

And feel what we have felt."

Repair at once to the celebrated Hydropathic Institution of Dr. E. A. Kittredge, literarily known as "Noggs," the famous Yankee writer and popular lecturer, 24 Franklin Place, Boston, Mass. Go to Boston of all places on earth; the glorious old patriotic, moral, literary and Christian city of New England-go to Noggs of all men, for a more skillful physician, a more ardent friend and a more pleasant and sympathizing family you will find not. Like you the excitement of busy scenes! visit the ship-crowded wharves, and learn of human nature in pea-jackets and tarpaulins, its most perfect embodiment. Do you wish to revive flagging patriotism? stand on Bunker Hill, where our fathers' blood speaks from the green turf in trumpet tones to the young heart. Are you sick of life and human vanity? there is Mount Auburn Cemetery; sit on the shaded tombstone of some mortal passed away, listen to voices from the Spirit Land, and feel the soft breeze, as it were the brush of angel's wing; and above all, have you got the "blues," those gloomy fowls of raven wing and doleful cry, that hover sluggishly about the sunken spirit, go down into the drawing-room and gaze for five minutes at the Dr.'s portrait, and if that do n't cure, step back into the study and take one look at the original, look at "Noggs" as he is scratching off in turkey-track characters the last sentence of an article for the Morning Chronotype; see his full jolly cheek shake, and his long curly locks tremble on his coat-collar with the exertion, and, as he throws down his quill and turns that inquiring, scowling, wit-tortured phiz towards you and lets off his first gun, if you do n't burst into a laugh so long and loud as to scare every blue devil from your brain, then our experience goes for nothing. Or, if the Dr. chances to be abroad on a visit to some of his numerous patients, wait till the dinner hour, and the joke and repartee, the fun and laughter that keep the table in an uproar of hilarity will be sure to charm you into all sorts of good humor. There, too, you will find the most intelligent society, for the Dr. being himself a noted literary character, and his skill and honesty well known from his having left a lucrative practice as one of the most distinguished physicians in the state, for an unpopular system, to perfect his acquaintance with which, he spent one or two years in Germany, his extensive literary acquaintance and those who value experience in the detection of diseases, and a thorough knowledge of the new science, are attracted thither. Water-cure! friends, water-cure we cry to all of you who are afflicted. We have tested its virtues and are fully convinced of its wonderful powers. But hark! clump, clump, clump go the heavy boots of our "man" lumbering up the stairway, coming to

Up jumped our amanuensis at this juncture and glided like the shadow of a vision and with the rustle of a zephyr through the door-way, disappearing at the moment when an honest matter-of-fact face protruded into the room, followed by an appropriate length of body, by whose deliberate manipulations the blankets were soon unrolled and our steaming body exposed again to that same keen air and, what is more, to a profusion of ice-cold water! This was a refreshing operation, however, on the whole, and after being rubbed to a flame with dry towels, we are seated at our table, “clothed, and," we trust, "in our right mind," ready with the

quill in our own fingers to say what we please about the Magazine, and our own personal feelings on the occasion. Now we have a chance to regale our eyes on the editorial "we," which has so often fallen from our tongue for the last half hour. The moment has at length arrived to which our ambitious aspirations have long been pointing. This is no unmeaning rigmarole, but the absolute fact, gentlemen. We are honest about it. We have looked upon the three who have preceded us, about the time we supposed them to be writing the Table, with an envious eye and a sort of sneaking feeling, for we really felt mean beside persons so illustrious. And when we have ventured even to intimate a desire to introduce a paragraph on our own hook for the sake of saying "we," they have clung to their perquisites with a snappish jealousy, like a dog to a bone, and we could only stand at a distance, and look on wistfully. But now our turn has come, and we mean to enjoy the pie to our heart's content, without the intrusion of any foreign fingers. Our case brings to mind that of an honest Yankee, who found himself at table one day with a company of fashionables. They had not proceeded far in the discussion of the dinner, when he observed his companions popping their bottles and pouring out the sparkling beverage, which they seemed to swallow with much satisfaction. Not to be singular, and being in fact somewhat impressed with the odor of the fluid, after rapidly taking two or three additional mouthfuls, Yankee innocently laid hold of a bottle at his right, when a quick resistance and the astounding words, "Private wine, sir," spread over his honest countenance a look of ridiculous wonderment, which seemed to say in his neighbor's face, "Who made your boots?" However, he made no words, but turning to his plate, reflected on the general selfishness of mankind, and their unwillingness that others should enjoy the same privileges with themselves. But the dry food soon began to cry aloud for moisture, and with no idea of finding so soon another such remarkable instance of human depravity, he took the bottle standing at his left, when he was repulsed by the same mysterious words, "Private wine, sir." Indignant at such treatment he was about to make a resolute dive at the bottle opposite him, when it was tightly clasped with the same words somewhat more emphatically pronounced-" Private wine, sir." Yankee was completely nonplused; his faith in humanity utterly annihilated; he began to feel the deep wisdom of those old sayings-" every man for himself," "look out for number one," &c., and resolved at once that from this time henceforth such should be his motto. At this point in his cogitations, the waiter entered with a huge dish of steaming pudding, and set it down directly in front of our hero; who, improving upon his resolution, threw one arm about the platter and drew it towards him, while with the other grasping a spoon, he commenced conveying the pudding in rapid vibrations to his mouth, sending back to the repeated solicitations of his astonished companions the triumphant response-"Private pudding, sir !" We are precisely in Yankee's condition. After having been forced to feed our ambitious appetite with the dry fare which a place in the literary department of our Magazine affords, we have at last got our desserts and are determined to suffer no interruption.

The antiquity of this publication has been so often descanted upon ever since it attained its second year, that the very mention of its age has come to be superfluous. But it has now reached one of those landmarks in the scale of existence which seems to call upon us to pause and indulge in some thoughts which are naturally suggested. The age it has acquired certainly places it beyond the sneers of the dignified and the insults of the malicious; for since it has already completed its fourteenth year, it may therefore be as old as some of "those young gentlemen who have recently

entered College," (see Coll. Laws, Chap. II, Sec. 2,) whom we are far from supposing to be proper subjects of ridicule. Again, the Magazine is eligible to matriculation, having both the requisites necessary, a suitable age, and over six months' connection with College; unless, alas! several unfortunate instances of profane swearing in past volumes may have reached the ears of the Faculty, and should thus disqualify it. But, seriously, readers, it is a matter of earnest congratulation that a Magazine so respectable, nay, so superior, has been so long maintained amid the changes and collisive waves of College. It is by far the oldest, and we think we may say without boasting, has generally held the highest rank of all similar publications in this country. However that may be, it seems in the highest degree desirable that its existence be continued, and its present standing be at least maintained, if not improved upon. To this end your present Editors are determined to be earnest and prompt in every duty. You have placed the Magazine in our hands, as the censors of its tone and the inspectors of its publication. As such we shall endeavor to issue each number promptly, and give it the character best calculated to make it a pleasing and useful visitant. Profanity, which has sometimes lamentably been suffered to appear, we think it a religious duty to exclude; and the tone of vulgar rowdyism which has pervaded some of its pages, we hope will pollute them no more. While the intellect is pleased, the fancy tickled and mirth and laughter provoked, we desire to pour into the heart an under-current of pure and genial feeling, which shall tend, so far as it goes, to beautify the character and give activity and warmth to every noble sentiment. To sustain us in these purposes, we need your generous subscriptions and contributions. These, some of you have already nobly given, for which we thank you. Others we know are pecuniarily unable to do so; but are there not some more who are able and willing to lend their aid? We appeal to you, friends, not only as members of the same Institution, and as therefore yourselves interested in this matter, but also, we confess, on our own account, whose honor and interest are peculiarly, though by no means exclusively, concerned.

Many thanks for the beautiful poem entitled "Let us Pray." It is the proper expression of a soul intensely alive to the beautiful of earth in whatever form it is found, yet, conscious of its proneness to idolize terrestrial things, burning with the Heaven-born desire to pay its devoutest worship at the throne of the Creator. This we believe to be the desire and aim of the writer, whom we would bid "God speed!" with all our heart. We had designed it for the present number, but the great length of the Valedictory Poem excludes it. We shall give it an early insertion.

THE VALEDICTORY POEM, by FRANCIS M. FINCH, contained in this number, is published in accordance with a desire expressed by a great portion of our subscribers. We felt called upon by the numerous requests which were made, to yield our own opinions respecting the propriety of inserting in our pages what had already been published in another form: our course, we are assured, will meet with the approbation of our readers.

"A. B. C. Trover" will find his poem returned through the Post Office, as requested. Though it has some merit, it is hardly deserving a place in our pages. It is too long; the thought is expanded beyond reasonable bounds; and the production bears, evidence of carelessness in composition. We should be glad to receive an article from the pen of our friend, after he has learned to compress, and to labor upon what he writes.