With a mark as high as any other man's,As obtuse I'm fraternal.I am Jolly.
I am seldom melancholy And to bone I think is folly,What's the use?
I'm a Junior whom exams.have left forlorn,Flunked me dead;So I'll keep the town awake 'till early morn;Paint it red.
At class-meetings I'm a kicker,Take no water with my liquor,And a dumb-bell's not thicker Than my head.
I'm a Senior whose diploma's within reach,Eighty-four.
On Commencement Day you'll hear my maiden-speech;I will soar!
I got through without condition;
I'm a mass of erudition;
Do you know of a position!"
OUR STREET
"Our street is still and silent,Grass grows from curb to curb,No baker's bells With jangling knells Our studious minds disturb.
No organ grinders ever call,No hucksters mar our peace;For traffic shuns our neighborhood And leaves us to our ease.
But now it lives and brightens,Assumes a livelier hue;The pavements wide,On either side,Would seem to feel it too.
You might not note the difference,The change from grave to gay,But I can tell,and know full well,Priscilla walks our way."Shortly after his return to college Richard celebrated his nineteenth birthday,and received these letters from his father and mother:
April 17th,1883.
MY DEAR BOY:
When I was thinking what I could give to you to-morrow,Iremembered the story of He-->>