Haven was still left? Yes, it was left-by all who could get away-and was as still as a Sabbath morn. The life of Chapel street, that great artery, ebbed slowly away, day by day, from the first, until, before the vacation had fairly set in, its pulse was gone entirely. Those beautiful faces, that smile so lovingly along its walks through all the term, had suddenly departed-why, we shall not say--whither, we cannot tell. One remnant of the past, however, lingered lovingly around the place—the “organ-grinders.” And the solace of their sweet strains was a great relief to a melancholy spirit. You have heard them, reader, and have no doubt marked their peculiarities. You have seen the German, dreamingly turning away at his organ, as though his chief object in playing was to frighten away any vagrant ideas that might otherwise obtrude themselves upon his mind; or the Italian, playing a waltz for his little puppets, to whom the jingling of silver seemed much pleasanter music than that made by himself. But have you ever seen Brother Jonathan in the trade? We think not-and we put it down as a "streak of good luck," that this rara avis appeared to us. Jonathan in this, as in everything else, is truly original. One would suppose he played but for the love of music. To be sure, he is “very thankful for small favors, and for large ones in proportion;” but that is not the object of his playing. With eyes wide open, and ears erect, the music seems to absorb his entire soul. You can see his enthusiasm in everything. Other persons in his trade have some respect for personal comfort, placing themselves in a safe and easy position-supporting an awning post, or the side of a house; but Jonathan has forgotten himself, and there he goes, dodging and capering around in the middle of the street, one moment letting out some shrill note under the nostrils of a terrified steed, and the next bringing his store-house of mellifluous notes in rather close proximity to the wheels of a passing butcher-cart. He evidently has studied his trade; see with what artistic effect he turns his crank, interspersing what would otherwise be a monotonous grind, with numerous sudden, lively jerks, sending the frightened note forth with an emphasis. Now he slowly, but decidedly turns out the grumbling barytone, and again returns with evident delight to the quick, rattling notes, like those of Yankee Doodle, as heard at general muster. The arcadian pipe is always close at hand-lip rather-held to its place by a flaring red, yellow, and blue handkerchief, to help out the organ when its low notes (" few and far between") would not be apt to reach the ear; but then he shows himself a worthy successor of the sylvan god; its notes can only be surpassed by the "vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife." The jews-harp is wanting; for even Jonathan's ingenuity has not devised any plan to draw forth its sweet notes without the "laying on of hands."

But this relief wore itself out, and as it continually intruded upon us, it began to grow entirely too much of a good thing, and what were our pleasures became our tortures. We will not pain you, however, with a recital of all we suffered, while you were away and rejoicing, but say we were "amazingly well pleased" when that old bell once more tumbled out the announcement that vacation was over.

We should feel delinquent, did we leave out of our table all notice of some of the important events which have transpired since we last had the pleasure of appearing before you.

VOL XVI.

"Dum mens grata manet, nomen laudesque Yalenses

Cantabunt Soboles, unanimique Patres,"

5

is the motto inscribed beneath the figure on our title-page; and recreant indeed would we be to pass over the last anniversary of Yale, without at least a passing word. Yale's one hundred and fiftieth birth-day was celebrated in a manner becoming her station and her worth. Never have our old elms looked down upon a more brilliant or talented assemblage than was gathered beneath their overspreading branches on that joyous occasion. The old, the middle-aged, and the young, gathered from every part of our wide extended country; all had come up together to do honor to their common mother.

"E longinquo convenerunt,
Protinusque successerunt,

In commune forum."

The old man, whose hairs Time had sprinkled with snow, came to look at the field of his first battles, and call back the pleasant scenes of his boyhood once more before he died; the man of middle age, who in the rude contact with the cold world had lost some of the fire of his youth, came to replenish his torch again at the altar where had been lighted in his soul the first sparks of a generous ambition, and renew the friendships that a long separation had estranged; the young man came because he could not stay away from such a jubilee.

The address of our venerable President, to the Alumni, displayed his usual patient research, and that lively spirit which marks him as a speaker, and was generally most admiringly received. We can speak at no great length of it in passing; but, if rather long, as hinted by some, we consider it but tended to heighten the enjoyment of those who could not live on intellectual food alone, at that dinner which immediately succeeded it. And about that dinner. We fortunately became one of those inside of the tent, (no matter how we got there,) under which it was given, and we can testify to the powers of all true Yalensians in one respect at least. We understand that the material part of the feast was excellent, and we can testify that the intellectual part was truly "a feast of reason and a flow of soul." Presided over by the portraits of Yale and the previous Presidents of the institution, the sons of Yale, with the distinguished guests present, spent the hours till sunset, with mirth and wisdom so intermingled that satiety arose from neither, and the sun went down too soon for all. Of the numerous fine things said, of the odes so finely sung, we have not space to speak; but must say, that so long as Yale can call around her so many faithful, noble sons, as paid her homage then, she may glory in her strength, and bid defiance to Time, as with " effacing fingers” he erases the monuments of the past.

Of the oration and poem before the Phi Beta Kappa, and the Commencement exercises of the next day, we can only say, that with the exception of the poem, they were of the common grade of such performances. The poem, which has since been published, is in many parts beautiful, in some witty, and is generally marked with that smooth versification for which Mr. Holmes is so noted. The principal defect, however, is want of unity. The parts of the poem seem like “beauteous pearls at random strung."

AUTUMN is again with us, and we only regret that so many poets and editors before have heaped their compliments upon him in such numbers, that there are scarcely any left for us to use. But we must say, we consider him a kind old friend,

sober withal, but not without a kind heart within him. Though he goes about robbing the trees and shrubs of their gay summer robe, how often does he seem from pity, to halt in his work of destruction, and put on the kindest smile of Summer. Like a judge, he seems to be weighing the claims of Summer and Winter; when he leans towards the one, the sun breaks forth, the birds once more take up their song, and Nature smiles; when to the other,

"Then falls the frost from the clear, cold heavens,

As falls the plague on men,

And the brightness of her smile is gone

From upland glade and glen."

We shall not moralize upon the season, but leave you to your own thoughts upon the subject. If young, let Autumn be to you the type of maturer years, when you shall reap the fruit of the seeds you are now planting; if you feel yourself becoming rather "ancient," and fast sinking into " the sere and yellow leaf," let it teach you that all earthly things must change, and as the flowers of summer wither at the approach of winter, so fade the hopes of youth as age creeps over us.

OUR MAGAZINE now enters upon its sixteenth year. Yes, "fair sixteen" has dawned upon it; and the fondest parents cannot be more rejoiced when they behold their only daughter just budding into maturity, than every true Yalensian, as he sees our dear Maga putting on the first year of maidenhood—

"Standing, with reluctant feet,
Where the brook and river meet,
Womanhood and childhood fleet."

It is really something to boast of, that we have reared our favorite to such an age; and we can now entertain the fond hope that it will continue to grow in beauty and strength as each year passes by. It however depends upon the public spirit of college, which we feel, however, will not be wanting. Subscriptions and contributions must be freely bestowed upon it. Let the Magazine be considered, as it really is, not a party, not a class, but a college Magazine; and let no one, who supposes he has a piece fit for its pages, be backward in offering it, and hereafter, as heretofore, it will stand a glorious index of the talent and liberality of Yale.

We had a word of advice laid by for the "young gentlemen who have lately entered college,” but their late unprecedented success (?) on the foot-ball ground and elsewhere, has led us to suppose it would be useless. However, as they have by this time, doubtless, acquired a taste for smoking, we hope they did not fail, in this "weak, piping time of peace," to take advantage of the advent of the noted 'Wandering Jew," to repair the damages of war. "Oh, yesh, shentlemans, dey ish de real meer-schaum; I pay jist forty-five-no-jist forty francs for him in Germany. Now you got any old pair of pants, I give him to you. So you make a fine bargain. Gott bless you! Gott bless you!"

"

TO CORRESPONDENTS.

That poem on the “ Parthenon” has been laid in the coffin; it was voted decidedly as" The non par." The author can obtain it by calling.

"Republicanism" has also been rejected.

"Lambda,” though short, is not very sweet. We would advise him to try again, give something longer, and, if possible, something more original.

66

The piece upon " Electra" had merits, but was of too great length.

The piece by "Rob" did not come quite soon enough for insertion into the body of our Magazine; but lest the beauties of his production should be entirely lost to our readers, we venture to insert the following quotation. His subject, which, we are sorry to say, he did not put at the head of his piece, seems to be the "Ultra Reformers." While we have the best right in the world to growl at those slowmovers, who are continually pulling back, and, as it were, clogging the wheels of progress; at the same time, we have as good a right to laugh at those audacious pioneers of civilization, who, leaving behind the great body of mankind, go plunging into regions which the light of advancement has not yet penetrated; where they are as likely to be guilty of absurd blunders, as the inhabitants of the dark ages, upon whom they look with so much surprise and pity." Now for his illustration. "They forcibly remind us of the boys who run along with a procession of soldiers. Astraddle of some stick hobby, they go prancing up and down away in front, with all the pride of leaders; until, getting beyond the reach of the music, they turn around the wrong corner, and only find out their mistake, when looking back, they find themselves at the tail end of the body they thought to head." We think the author rather pushes things to extremities here, yet the prevailing sentiment of the piece is good.

The article by Q. we are sorry did not come in time for publication.

We can only account for the dearth of contributors, from the pleasantness of the fine autumn weather. We hope, however, that the cold winds and frosts of winter may soon appear to prick their energies, and lead them to exert themselves for our successor, though forgetful of us. It may seem strange for editors to be continually drumming for contributors, since they are supposed to be fully capable of performing the whole Herculean labor of getting up the Magazine. Yet we wish that our friends would consider that the Magazine should be an index of the mind of the whole college, not entirely of a few individuals.

All communications for the next number must be handed in immediately.

OUR EXCHANGES.

We have upon our table, “The Nassau Literary Magazine," for September, but have not yet received the October number. We do not fear, however, but that this excellent college production, hitherto so regular, will yet appear. We also acknowledge the advent of the “Indicator." The "Ciceronian Magazine,” conducted by the Ciceronian Society of Georgetown College, Kentucky, we heartily welcome. May it succeed in its object! its neat appearance and good matter certainly deserve it. We have no doubts but that, as the editors suggest, the West is fully able and willing to support a college magazine, especially when presented in as neat a form, and displaying such ability, as the Ciceronian.