amateur
conductor had one of his inspirations.

"Hey, a trio! The event of the evening! General Hardshell Jackson,
Senor Lupe de Tamale, and the renowned lyric barytone, James Russell
Lowell Mason, will combine in a grand farewell concert. Ascend the
platform, Senor!" he cried to the Mexican lad, who stood, wide-eyed, in
a corner. Then he gestured wildly toward the door.

"Hey, Jimmie, come back here," he called; "don't let him out, boys!"

Jimmie had reached the door when Lyman caught his sleeve.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"You mean the Hall?"

Jimmie pulled free of the Senior's hand.

"No!" he said. "Home."

A SONG CYCLE AND A PUNCTURE.

A Song Cycle and a Puncture.

"And I learned about women from 'er!"

KIPLING.

Six Madonnas, from their places on the Chapel walls, gazed at the
spectacle of a student with long hair and energetic manner drilling a
chorus of young men and women from behind the preacher's desk. There was
no visible sign of agitation on the part of the six Madonnas, though an
operatic rehearsal in Chapel might be considered reason enough. To be
sure, one of them, with her feet upon a crescent moon, kept her eyes
fixed religiously on the ceiling, but this had become a habit. The
Madonnas were not surprised.

The early years of the University, when there was no assembly hall and
the temporary chapel was used for everything that did not demand the
superior accommodations of the men's gymnasium, had prepared them for
anything. They had looked calmly down upon student farces and Wednesday
evening prayer meetings, professional impersonations and baccalaureate
sermons. Once, there had been a German farce under the protection of
the Germanic Language department, by a company from town, a boisterous
play with a gigantic comedienne in a short skirt. Beside this
performance, Lillian Arnold's singing a love duet with Jack Smith was
nothing very shocking.

Connor, the man who was getting up the opera for the benefit of the
Junior Annual, waved his baton gracefully and looked pleased. The
rehearsal had gone well that afternoon, and now Cap Smith was singing
with creditable expression the love song in the last act. The experience
of Connor told him that this song would make even the bleachers at the
back of the gymnasium keep a respectful silence, which was saying a good
deal. Smith had a very pretty tenor, redeeming its lack of volume by a
sy