y cessation, then up and pressing on again. Here a fiery
spirit grows pugnacious, but is restrained by his class-mates; there
another has his shirt torn off him, and presents the picturesque
appearance of an amateur scarecrow. There are, in short, both

'Breaches of peace and pieces of breeches,'

until the stronger party carries the ball over the bounds, or it gets
without the crowd unobserved by most, and goes off hurriedly under the
direction of some swift-footed player to the same goal. Then mighty is
the cheering of the victors, and woe-begone the looks, though defiant
the groans of the vanquished. And thus, with much noise and dispute, and
great confounding of umpire, they continue for three, four, or five
games, or until the evening chapel-bell calls to prayers. In the evening
the victors sing paeans of victory by torch-light on the State House
steps, and bouquets, supposed to be sent by the fair ones of the
balconies, are presented and received with great glorification.

Nor less exciting and interesting in college annals, is the Burial of
Euclid. The incipient Sophomores, assisted by the other classes, must
perform duly the funeral rites of their friend of Freshman-days, by
nocturnal services at the 'Temple.' Wherefore, toward midnight of some
dark Wednesday evening in October, you may see masked and
fantastically-dressed students by twos and threes stealing through the
darkness to the common rendezvous. An Indian chief of gray leggins and
grave demeanor goes down arm in arm with the prince of darkness, and a
portly squire of the old English school communes sociably with a
patriotic continental. Here is a reinforcement of 'Labs,' (students of
chemistry,) noisy with numerous fish-horns; there a detachment of
'Medics,' appropriately armed with thigh-bones, according to their
several resources. Then, when gathered within the hall, a crowded mass
of ugly masks, shocking bad hats, and antique attire, look down from
the steep slope of seats upon the stage where lies the effigy of Father
Euclid, in inflammable state. After a voluntary by the 'Blow Hards,'
'Horne Blenders,' or whatever facetiously denominated band performs the
music, there is a mighty singing of some Latin song, written with more
reference to the occasion than to correct quantities, of which the
following opening stanza may serve as a specimen:

'Fundite nunc lacrymas,
Plorate Yalenses:
Euclid rapuerunt fata,
Membra et ejus inhumata
L