.
And I must not omit to say
That in Transylvania there's a tribe
Of alien people that ascribe
The outlandish ways and dress
On which their neighbors lay such stress,
To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterraneous prison
Into which they were trepanned
Long time ago in a mighty band
Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land,
But how or why, they don't understand.

XV.

So, Willy, let me and you be wipers
Of scores out with all men--especially pipers!
And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,
If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise!

A Girl Graduate.

BY CYNTHIA BARNARD.

I.

It was examination week at Mount Seward College, but most of the work
was over, and the students were waiting in the usual fever of anxiety to
learn the verdict on their papers, representing so much toil and pains.
Some of the girls were nearly as much concerned about their graduating
gowns as about their diplomas, but as independence was in the air at
Mount Seward, these rather frivolous girls were in the minority. During
term time most of the students wore the regulation cap and gown, and
partly owing to the fact that Mount Seward was a college with traditions
of plain living and high thinking behind it, and partly because the
youngest and best-loved professor was a woman of rare and noble
characteristics, a woman who had set her own stamp on her pupils, and
furnished them an ideal, dress and fashion were secondary considerations
here. There were no low emulations at Mount Seward.

A group of girls in a bay-window over-looking the campus were discussing
the coming commencement. From various rooms came the steady, patient
sound of pianos played for practice. On the green lawn in front of the
president's cottage two or three intellectual looking professors and
tutors walked up and down, evidently discussing an affair that
interested them.

The postman strolled over the campus wearily, as who should say, "This
is my last round, and the bag is abominably heavy."

He disappeared within a side door, and presently there was a hurrying
and scurrying of fresh-faced young women, bright-eyed and blooming under
the mortar-caps, jauntily perched over their braids and ringlets,
rushing toward that objective point, the college post-office. One would
have fancied that letters came very seldom, to see their excitement.

Margaret Lee