ry well
For a boy, who can yell
For his own special college through all, without fail.
How can I be true
To the red or the blue,
When Will is at Harvard, and Tom is at Yale?

When one comes to call,
I must stop in the hall
To see that his pin's in a prominent place,
They're both on the crew,
And I'm all in a stew,
For I'm pledged as a mascot for both in the race!

Dear Will's such a swell,
And he dresses so well,
(Tom says that he puts on a great deal of dog),
His tenor is fine
And his waltzing divine.
But you ought to see Tom do his skirt-dance and clog!

It's all very well
For a boy, who can yell
For his own special college through all, without fail.
Why, I'd gladly be true
To the red or the blue,
If Tom were at Harvard, or Will went to Yale!

JULIET W. TOMPKINS.
_Vassar Miscellany._

~After the Soiree ~

I beside the blue-gate lying,
Round and round all objects flying,
Just to reach my bed was trying,
After the Soiree.

Now I hear the music stopping,
Now the corks from champagne popping,
Now the wasted money dropping,
After the Soiree,

Now I sleep and now awaken,
Find myself by classmates taken
To the bed that I'd forsaken,
After the Soiree.

When the light of day comes o'er me,
What have I but flunks before me?
Greek and Latin, how they bore me,
After the Soiree.

F.R.D.B.
_Garnet_.

~A Panacea.~

If your health is not quite right,
If you have no appetite,
If you cannot sleep at night,
Light your pipe.

If conditions round you press,
If your stock of cuts grows less,
Spoiling all your happiness,
Light your pipe.

If your debts upon you weigh,
If your bills you cannot pay,
As they come in day by day,
Light your pipe.

There's no trouble in this land,
Lack of wealth, or loss of stand,
Loss of health, or lady's hand,
Which can this sure cure withstand!
Light your pipe.

R.O. RYDER.
_Yale Record._

~A Toast.~

What though the storm-king growls in rage,
And the daylight fast is dimming;
We'll add to the score on Mem'ry's page,
While the butt with cheer is brimming.

And Love shall be the tapster gay,
To draw at nod or winking;
And whether the clouds be gold or gray,
Here's to the cup and its clinking!

Those moist lips, touched in single bliss,
More constant are than lovers';
Their foamy depth holds many a kiss,