GAUDEAMUS IGITUR.

OPINIONS differ as to the merits of the late novel, Student Life at Harvard; but probably no one will dispute that the delineation given in one place of Sam Wentworth is applicable to almost every Harvard man: "Here he was, - a man in stature, but a boy in everything else, with not even a thought as to the ways and means of life, and a horizon that did not reach beyond Class Day." The biography of a student can usually be summed up about as follows: In early life he decided to go to college; goes to the academy or high school to prepare; his one object in life is to get into college; he passes the entrance examinations, and judges that he is in the seventh heaven; four years seem such a long time that he never thinks of looking beyond; he gives himself up wholly to college life; he becomes careless and unmethodical; he has not the faintest idea of what business habits are; he is utterly unable to keep an account of his own expenses; he fails to make any distinction between the meum and the tuum; in short, while he develops intellectually and, let us hope, morally, he remains at a stand-still as to all practical matters, and thus comes to tally exactly with the above description.

But alas! the four joyous years fly on the wings of the wind, and all at once and almost before he is aware of it the poor inexperienced collegian is cast unprotected upon the world. The schoolmates of his youth are now men of business, or have taken a short cut to the professions, and are far in advance of him in maturity. The graduate knows no more about the "Ledger" and "Day Book" than he did before he came to college, and often wishes himself back to the simpler logarithmic tables; he remembers well enough the constitution of the Amphyctyonic Council, but on election day eliminates the electors from his ticket, and votes for President directly (as a Western Professor really did), and then practical politicians call him a "d-n literary fellow." This is the result of his college training! A college-bred man can do better in professional life, where his irregular habits may be tolerated, than in business; but even here he is at a disadvantage beside a plain, matter-of-fact man of the world.

Forebodings of this nature have been brought home to many Seniors during the jollifications of the holidays, for in the midst of the merriest punch a feeling of sadness would come over all at the thought that this was the last Christmas vacation of our undergraduate life, together with the thought of how ill prepared we are to struggle with the world next year.

Yet we are not without consolation. We have qualified ourselves to appreciate other and higher joys than those which come merely from practical pursuits; and then, however cruel Fortune may be to us hereafter, she can never rob us of the pleasant memory of our stay there, and this surely will make up for many hardships. These are ample returns for becoming a trifle impractical by going through college. But for the time being I find, in the book before quoted, a consolation of the dum vivimus vivamus sort, which I offer as a comfort to any Senior who is sorrowing that he must so soon depart this collegiate life: "Happy Senior! enjoy these your halcyon days while you may; for great will be the fall from your pinnacle of glory, when after Commencement you go forth into the great world to earn your first dollar, and find that even the boy who dusts the office and kindles the fire and runs of errands is for the time at least more valued and more valuable than you; since he does some deed, even though it be a small one, well, while you are utterly inexperienced and unpractised! So smoke on, and dream on, and enjoy your glory while it lasts; for when you have departed from this charmed circle, it will have vanished forever!"