ACCOUNT OF A FACULTY MEETING.

LAST Monday morning, as I was reclining on my lounge, carefully preparing some work for the next hour's recitation, I heard some one coming up stairs, and presently a postal card was thrust under my door. Alas! as I had feared, it was an invitation to come to the Dean's daily reception. After perusing it for a few moments, I determined to put off my visit till the afternoon. At five o'clock, on arriving at the Dean's office, to my astonishment, I found no one there. There I was, all alone, in the Secretary's room, with but a threshold between me and the President's office, - the seat of those Faculty meetings, which I could never help associating in my mind with the Eleusinian mysteries. It had always been my fondest desire to become an unnoticed witness of one of these meetings. Here was my chance. Could I not conceal myself, and thus witness all the proceedings of the august body? I was aware of the dangers of such an undertaking. Specials, suspensions, expulsion, all flashed on my mind; but youthful folly predominated, and I proceeded to conceal myself.

After having waited for more than two hours, I at last heard approaching footsteps. The Professors were coming, all in a body, headed by Professors Alkali, with a calcium light fixed on his hat, to illumine the way. They were about to seat themselves around the table, when suddenly the calcium light gave out and left them in the dark. The Secretary, attempting to light the gas, found to his amazement that it had been turned off. Consternation spread over all. After some deliberation, Professor Lever suddenly recollected that he had in his pocket a tallow candle, which he kept to reduce the friction of his pulleys. This was lighted, and peace temporarily restored. When the house was called to order, the light shed by the single tallow candle was unfortunately found not bright enough to enable any one of the Professors to read their parts, and, as no oration had been assigned for the evening, and extempore speaking is not approved by them, it was evident that no general business could be transacted.

At this point of affairs some one knocked at the door. This gave the youthful part of the Faculty an opportunity of giving vent to their feelings in the touching song, "Stop that knocking at the door." After having sung this with the customary stamping on the floor, the door was opened, and in came one of the clerks of the University Bookstore, with a little red book in his hand, which he proceeded to explain was a work just published, on a new and very interesting subject, - Political Economy. He wished to call the attention of the Faculty to it. Professor Yellsons, on account of the vocal qualities implied in his name, was appointed to read a chapter of it merely to kill time, since no business could be transacted. Opening the book at random, he began to read about the policy of Division of Labor, showing its advantages and beneficial results. The Professors all listened with great attention, until one of them started suddenly from his seat, and, after ejaculating half a dozen "Eurekas," explained that he had a most glorious idea. He said that the system of studies now in vogue at Harvard did not lead to any great results; few of her graduates won great renown and glory. He would therefore propose that the old system be superseded by a new one, based on the principle, just read, of Division of Labor. By a systematic division of the labor of study among the four classes, advantages equal to those gained through this system in manual labor could be secured. Four studies should be pursued in College, one by each class. The question of the nature of these studies excited some debate, but finally the following plan was approved: The Freshman Class should pursue an extended and thorough course in Ethics, the class being divided into five sections. Each section should use text-books in a different language, Greek, Latin, English, German, and French, with an extra first-year honor section in Sanscrit. For the Sophomores the study selected as most important was Rhetoric. The same division into five languages was to be resorted to, and, besides the use of text-books, each Sophomore should be required to write, on an average, three themes a week. For the more mature Juniors an aesthetical course was designated, namely, a course in music. It was proposed to take Memorial Hall, and rent one hundred and fifty Chickering pianos, to be arranged in rows around the hall. The exercises on the pianos were to take up the whole forenoon, suitable teachers being provided, and the whole superintended by Gilmore. The afternoon was to be occupied in composition, each Junior having to write at least twenty-five operas in the course of the year, the librettos being written by the Sophomores, in addition to their themes. The evenings were to be taken up with the performance of these operas, with the hundred and fifty pianos as an orchestra.

This glorious plan so excited me that, forgetting my situation, I rushed from my place of concealment, and burst out into loud hurrahs and cheers. The speaker stopped, everybody started, and cries of "Treason!" and "Put him out!" were heard all over the room. I was seized by the collar, and, before I could collect my senses, a rope was fastened around my neck, and to my horror I found that my fears of suspension were about to be realized. For the Professors fastened the rope round a pulley and began to raise me into the air. As soon as my feet left the ground I felt myself suddenly transformed into a bell; I began to swing to and fro, and to ring loudly. At the same time footsteps and voices were heard in the entry. I started up; the bell was ringing for recitation, the students were rushing down stairs, and I found to my astonishment that I had fallen asleep while reading that charming subject, Political Economy.

H. T. F.