of the college course. The religious atmosphere which surrounds the college is as genial and cheerful as the natural atmosphere which bathes the hills and valleys around in October days. It has no element of sectarianism or bigotry. Free alike from cant, from looseness and indifference, the religious tone of the college is altogether wholesome.

Williams, the westernmost of our New England colleges, blends in harmonious combination the puritan spirit of the East with the progressive spirit of the West, and offers to all who come to her doors an education based upon tried principles, and conducted in a healthful spirit. At his inauguration to the office of its presidency, Dr. Hopkins said, "I desire and shall labor that this may be a safe college; that here may be health, and cheerful study, and kind feelings, and pure morals." No words perhaps could better describe the character which, under his wise management, and that of his associates, the college has maintained.

President Carter's inaugural address contained an urgent plea for a professorship of the "History and Polity of the Hebrew Theocracy," and although the funds for such a professorship are still wanting, the college stands faithfully by the old traditions of reverence and worship and sound morality.

THE HUNTING OF THE STAG OF CENOË.

BY CLINTON SCOLLARD.

FROM Proud Mycena's lion-guarded gate,
Where King Eurystheus reigned in regal state,
One springtime morn when every field was fair
And song-birds carolled in the azure air,
A man of mighty stature swiftly strode,
And took his way along the winding road
That led to well-walled Argos and the sea.
From Lerna's fens a salty breeze blew free,
And stirred the locks that fell his shoulders down
And wreathed his forehead like a golden crown.
Upon his shield
a sight to hold men mute -
Was seen the head of the Nemean brute;
Within one hand a gnarlèd club he bore,
Hewn from an oak bole in the forest hoar.

The shafts of Hermes, and the wondrous bow,
The helm of Vulcan with its fiery glow,

The fine-wrought peplus fluttering in the breeze,
Proclaimed the hero valiant Hercules.

Beside the torrent Perseia that won

Its way to join the sweet Asterion,

Through flowery meads and field of greening grain,
The hero's pathway led him o'er the plain;

But ere the walls of Argos met his view,

Or ere he saw the Ægean shining blue,

He turned, and toward the mountain peaks that rose
Along the far horizon, capped with snows

Of lands Arcadian, pursued his quest.

And many days he fared with meagre rest
Taken in starlit hours 'neath forest boughs,

Where nightly Queen Titania's elves carouse.

By day he hasted with unflagging pace

Through woodland depths where Dian's hounds gave chase To startled deer, through fields by yeomen tilled,

Through vineyards whence the winepress would be filled

When teeming Autumn with her purple fine

Had tinged the grape upon the yielding vine;

Through olive groves that, in good time, would bear

A bounteous fruitage 'neath the pruner's care:

And those who saw him as he sped along

Paused 'mid their work, or hushed the jocund song

To do him homage. None in all the land
But felt the blessings that his potent hand

Had widely wrought; remote were they and few
But that his face and stately presence knew.
Where'er his many wanderings led, he heard
In field or household no unwelcome word;

Whene'er he came, though bread and wine were spent,
He saw no frown nor look of ill content.

At last, when many nights the vernal moon

Had risen and set, and song-birds presaged June,
One sultry eve the weary hero came

To mountain hamlet where his matchless fame
Had been on all men's lips, but where his face
Was known to none; and in the market-place

He found a throng with wreaths and garlands bound,
And one who blew with clear, harmonious sound
Upon a hollow reed. Amidst the folk

A goodly ox, unfettered by the yoke,

Stood gayly decked with flowers in skilful wise
As though prepared for godly sacrifice.
When they beheld the noble-visaged man,
They bade him join the festal rites of Pan;
For some at heart believed that he might be,
In mortal guise, a heavenly deity:

And much they marveled at his kingly mien,
As with the throng he sought the forest green.
Within a glade where drooping birches stirred
Their silvery leaves, and where the drowsy bird
Sang plaintively a tender twilight lay,
An altar stood entwined by tendrils gay.
And soon thereon the mighty ox, new-slain,
Was sprinkled o'er with wine and barley grain;
Then one, amid the sound of choral song,
The seemly leader of the pastoral throng,
With reverent hand brought forth the sacred fire,
And prayerful knelt and lit the holy pyre.
Amid the roar of sacrificial flame

The devotees besought their God by name;
And while they worshipped, Hercules unheard,

Through flowering, fragrant thickets scarcely stirred
By evening's breezes, softly slipped away,
His vows fulfilled. The golden orb of day
Had ceased to flush the placid western sky;
With slowly lengthening shadows night drew nigh,
But still the hero with unslackened stride

Went hurrying onward, till a torrent wide,

Grown fierce with melting snow, his progress barred;
And there beneath the cloudless dome, bright-starred,
Upon his tawny shield he laid him down,

And slept till morning with her rosy crown

Followed the car of Phoebus up the East.

Then, when his limbs from slumber were released,

And he had eaten of his frugal fare,

He stemmed the stream, and up a hillside bare
Of aught but tangled bush and hindering briar
Toiled slowly to the crest, whereon a spire
Of splintered pine like lonely sentry stood.
Below him lay a wide-outreaching wood,
And far beyond a hamlet that he knew,
Before the thick night dew
Enoë called.
Had dried from off the grass and rustling leaves,
Or shepherd maids from under well-thatched eaves
Had gone afield to watch the wandering
Of flocks that fed beside a crystal spring,
Stout Hercules had trodden half the way
That 'twixt the pine-tree and the hamlet lay.

A Titan power, while yet the world was young,
Within the woodland's shady heart had flung
The green earth open, and a dark ravine,
Through which a streamlet purled o'er mossy-green,
Gigantic boulders, formed the chosen lair
For ravening beasts that through the forest fare.
At night or morn the deer were wont to seek
The freshening nectar of the crystal creek;
At night or morn the pard, with stealthy tread,
Crept softly out upon the boughs o'erhead;
A wanderer from rocky realms remote,
Here laved the mountain bear his shaggy coat;
And birds, bright-mirrored on the sedgy brink
Of darkling pools, here paused to plume and drink.

Where o'er the granite ledge the noisy stream
Came tossing down athwart the slanting gleam
Of morning sunrays, Hercules reclined
Beneath a tangled growth of vines that twined
Around o'erhanging saplings, oak and elm.
Upon the ground was cast his weighty helm,
Likewise his shield and shafts, his club and bow.
Breathless he listened with his ear bent low
Upon the earth. The moments sped; around
The honey-hoarding bees' unceasing sound,
The crested jay's complaining, shrilly call,
Were intermingled with the water's fall.
But soon upon his keen, detecting ear

There fell a noise which told that hocf of deer

Was lightly rustling through the reeds and grass.
With eye alert he scanned the narrow pass

Beside the stream, and, in a moment more,

Beheld a stag upon the shelving shore

Whose hoofs seemed brazen, and whose horns outshone

With gold like that which binds the slender zone

Of fair Aurora, daughter of the Dawn.

Deep eyes more tender had no timid fawn;

b;

Of perfect form was every graceful limb
The tapering flank symmetrical and slim,
The head erect, the nostril fine of curve,
The shapely shoulders flawless, and the swerve
Of stately neck a marvel to behold.

This was the stag a woodland nymph of old

To swift Diana gave, remembering she

Had been her friend in dire extremity.
This stag it was that brave Mycena's king
Had bidden valiant Hercules to bring
Alive unto his court. And now so fair
The creature stood before him, unaware
A foe lurked near, that he at heart was fain
To capture it without the piercing pain
The wounding dart might give; and so aside
He cast his princely peplus, purple-dyed,
And softly crept from 'neath the viny roof.
But lo! the stag with smite of startled hoof
On yielding ground, and toss of antlers high,
Flashing a look from out his frightened eye,