AN EVENING'S EXPERIENCE.

EARLY in the term the news that several energetic members of the Advocate Board from '80 had already been three times through Thayer in search of subscribers, and were intending to attack Hollis and Stoughton en masse the next day, called for immediate action in the Crimson ranks. I will say, by way of parenthesis, that this Advocate news was "given away" by an indiscreet member of that board, who was severely reprimanded by his colleagues at the next meeting. Well, the lot fell upon me to start on a subscription-tour that very night, and off I went with a large notebook, a buoyant step, and a light heart.

I knocked at a door on the ground-floor of Hollis. No answer. Knocked again. I heard light steps coming toward me; the door opened, and there stood a white figure in full evening dress, so to speak, gazing at me with a vacant stare.

"Excuse my disturbing, but would n't you like to subscribe to the Crimson? Two dollars and a half for the year."

A slight shudder ran through him; he drew back a little from the doorway, and looked at me with an anxious and inquiring glance. I repeated my question. In reply the youth slowly pronounced the words:-

"What - is - the - Crimson?"

He had doubtless taken me for a cruel Sophomore, and probably thought the Crimson was some instrument of torture. I left his imagination to take care of him, and tried another door.

The inmate of this room said he really had too much to do this year to read the college papers, that I must really excuse him, for not complying with my request. There is no arguing with such men.

There was a great deal of noise in the next room I visited, but it subsided when I went in. The inmates, Freshmen, were in close consultation over a knotty point in physics.

"Well, you see how it is," replied No. 1 to my question, "the matter stands in just this way, I am going to take one paper -"

"Then why not take the Crimson?"

"And I told the Advocate man, who came here the other day, that I thought I would wait and see which I liked the best before making up my mind."

"Confound the Advocate!" thought I; but I restrained my feelings and proceeded to set forth the merits of the sheet I represented in the best possible light. The minds of my listeners did not seem satisfied with the prospect of frequent supplements, reports of athletic meetings, etc. They were evidently looking for some real intellectual treat.

"I understand," said No. 2, "that the Advocate is a much more literary periodical. The poetry published in its columns has been thought worthy of a reprint in book-form. That is the kind of paper I shall subscribe for."

Turning to No. 3, I asked him what he thought about it.

"I should like to take your paper; but I think the other is gotten up in better style. With its clean white cover, and table of contents and other ornaments, it looks less like a country college paper and more like a magazine."

No. 4 did n't exactly know what to do, but he finally yielded and subscribed for half a year.

The occupants of the fourteen rooms I next visited were out; at last I found a man who was at home.

"I have come round to ask you to subscribe to the Crimson; you may have seen it," I added, as I discovered that I had entered the abode of an instructor.

"Yes, I have. Take a seat. I think the way in which you young men criticise your elders is something shameful. I cannot understand how the spirit of reverence is so lacking. Your facts are often wrong. You launch out a tirade against the Faculty when the Corporation is to blame. You -"

The door closed between us before he had finished his harangue. The next person I called on was a classmate whom I knew only by sight.

"Good evening, Mr. -," he exclaimed in a pompous way, "I am exceedingly delighted to welcome you to my humble apartment. It gives me pleasure, that I cannot express with sufficient adequacy, to answer you in the affirmative."

I was soon in one of the buildings outside of the Yard, and I strayed into the room of an old friend.

"Hallo, old man!" he shouted, slapping me on the back, "subscribe? Not much; I read the Senator's copy." He called his chum "Senator" to gratify an abnormally developed fondness of nicknames. "Off? Sorry, Jack, but it 'll be all right in the spring."

I was very politely received in another room by some Freshmen of rather a different stamp from any I had seen that evening. They were a manly set of fellows, and were discussing the formation of a Lacrosse Club. When I had made known the object of my coming, and had answered a few questions of frankly expressed ignorance, one of their number offered to subscribe for the whole year, and the other seven immediately followed suit.

I tried another door, and was let in. "Good evening. I am come to ask you whether you would subscribe to the Crimson," and, mindful of my first visit, added an explanation. "It is one of the college papers you know. I have just received eight subscription from your classmates over the way."

"Excuse me, but there must be some mistake. I am a Junior." No subscription from him.

The last man I visited that night gave me his reasons for subscribing, and they seemed to be sound ones. "The boat-clubs, the ball nine, the foot-ball team, the goodies, the waiters, and the reading-room deserve some support from students, but the periodicals that discuss undergraduate thought and tell us what is going on around us merit the encouragement of all who are interested in anything outside of their own dinner or their own position on the rank list. As long as I am in college, I intend to take your paper, as well as the Advocate and the Lampoon.