From the green we repaired to
Harvard Hall, where an excellent collation was served, succeeded
by dancing. From the hall the students of 1848 marched and cheered
successively every College building, then formed a circle round a
magnificent elm, whose trunk was beautifully garlanded will
flowers, and, with hands joined in a peculiar manner, sung 'Auld
Lang Syne.' The scene was in the highest degree touching and
impressive, so much of the beauty and glory of life was there, so
much of the energy, enthusiasm, and proud unbroken strength of
manhood. With throbbing hearts and glowing lips, linked for a few
moments with strong, fraternal grasps, they stood, with one deep,
common feeling, thrilling like one pulse through all. An
involuntary prayer sprang to my lips, that they might ever prove
true to _Alma Mater_, to one another, to their country, and to
Heaven.

"As the singing ceased, the students began running swiftly around
the tree, and at the cry, 'Harvard!' a second circle was formed by
the other students, which gave a tumultuous excitement to the
scene. It broke up at last with a perfect storm of cheers, and a
hasty division among the class of the garland which encircled the
elm, each taking a flower in remembrance of the day."--_Greenwood
Leaves_, Ed. 3d, 1851, pp. 350, 351.

In the poem which was read before the class of 1851, by William C.
Bradley, the comparisons of those about to graduate with the youth
who is attaining to his majority, and with the traveller who has
stopped a little for rest and refreshment, are so genial and
suggestive, that their insertion in this connection will not be
deemed out of place.

"'T is a good custom, long maintained,
When the young heir has manhood gained,
To solemnize the welcome date,
Accession to the man's estate,
With open house and rousing game,
And friends to wish him joy and fame:
So Harvard, following thus the ways
Of careful sires of older days,
Directs her children till they grow
The strength of ripened years to know,
And bids their friends and kindred, then,
To come and hail her striplings--men.

"And as, about the table set,
Or on the shady grass-plat met,
They give the youngster leave to speak
Of vacant sport, and boyish freak,
So now would we (such tales have power
At noon-tide to abridge the hour)
Turn to the past, and mourn or praise
The joys and pains of boyhood's days.

"Like travellers with their hearts inte