ustachios. Exit Othello to a nine
o'clock, Ladd on Confusions. Now the rascal Iago enters--myself! with
flowing tie. He hates Othello. He glowers like a villain and
soliloquizes:

In order that my vengeance I may plot
Give me a dog, and give it to me hot!

That was the kind of play. Finally, Desdemona is nearly smothered but
is returned at last to Othello's arms. Iago meets his deserts. He is
condemned to join [Greek: Delta, Kappa, Epsilon], a rival fraternity.
But the warm heart of Desdemona melts and she intercedes to save him
from this horrid end. In mercy--behind the scenes--his head is chopped
off. Then all of us, heroines and villains, sat to a late hour around
the fire and told one another how the real stage thirsted for us. We
drank lemonade mostly but we sang of beer--one song about

Beer, beer, glorious beer!
Fill yourself right up to here!

accompanied with a gesture several inches above the head. As the
verses progressed it was customary to stand on chairs and to reach up
on tiptoe to show the increasing depth.

But the dog-wagon has now become a gilded unfamiliar thing, twice its
former size and with stools for a considerable company. I questioned
the proprietor whether he might be descended from the noble Brabantio,
but the dull fellow gave no response. The wagon has passed to meaner
ownership.

Across the street Vanderbilt Hall loomed indistinctly. To the ignorant
it may be necessary to explain that its courtyard is open to Chapel
Street, but that an iron grill stretches from wing to wing and keeps
out the town. This grill is high enough for Hagenbeck, and it used to
be a favorite game with us to play animal behind it for the street's
amusement. At the hour when the crowd issued from the matinee at the
Hyperion Theatre, our wittiest students paced on all fours up and down
behind this grill and roared for raw beef. E---- was the wag of the
building and he could climb up to a high place and scratch himself
like a monkey--an entertainment of more humor than elegance. Elated
with success, he and a companion later chartered a street-organ--a
doleful one-legged affair--and as man and monkey they gathered pennies
out Orange Street.

I turned into the dark Campus by Osborn Hall. It is as ugly a building
as one could meet on a week's journey, and yet by an infelicity all
class pictures are taken on its steps. Freshman courses are given in
the basement--a French class once in particular. S