CLASS DAY.

CLASS DAY, or the mutilated affair which took the place of that ancient rite, was a success. The day itself was perfect, - no heat, no dust, no rain. The Seniors seemed to be bound that the quality of the amusement should make up for the quantity. The sensations in the morning were rather singular; sharing in expectancy of something to come, the missing of something that was not, and a general feeling of lie-on-the-grass laziness taking precedence of all other emotions. The average undergraduate discussed the chances of the match, the amount of money he was going to have left for Springfield, and the folly of the Class Committee in not printing more tickets for Memorial Hall, a tune which they unanimously changed about nine in the evening.

Soon after half past nine in the morning, the Seniors formed in front of Holworthy, with the band at their head, and started for breakfast at Professor Lowell's. A few, unable to endure the fatigue of so long a tramp, seated themselves in horse-cars or cabs, and took their ease on their way to Elmwood. About twelve o'clock they reappeared in the Square, and marched around the Yard, cheering the buildings in the old-fashioned way. The undergraduates gave them nine cheers in front of University, and after a chorus in front of Holworthy the Class separated.

During the next two hours the students strolled about the Yard, gazing at such Yale men as from time to time made their appearance, and waiting until it should be time to go to the match. Those who found friends among the Yale men showed them the sights of Harvard, and those who had never seen Yale men before were surprised to find them so much like other people. Of betting there was very little. By two o'clock the seats around the ball-field began to fill, and the crowd, consisting largely of ladies, was amused by the band until the game began. What happened then will be found elsewhere; sufficient to say that an extremely happy crowd went off from the field to the teas which then began, and, though not numerous, were very pleasant.

At eight o'clock the Yard was very brilliantly lighted with Chinese lanterns, a crimson arch over the entrance opposite University being a new feature in the illumination. The crowd, after promenading or sitting in the windows during the singing of the Glee Club, little by little departed for the President's reception and Memorial Hall, where the band was playing for dancing. At the spreads there did not seem to be as many ladies as last year, but the hall was as full as it could well hold, and many couples took the opportunity to retreat to the theatre, which was opened for flirtations. Towards the end of the evening, the crowd was so much diminished, that dancing, instead of an infliction, became a pleasure, and one's toes, at the end of a turn, were in a fairly sound condition.

Before eleven o'clock almost every one had gone, the lanterns had been put out, and seventy-seven had had their Class Day, which, though it sprung from quarrels, will be remembered with pleasure by all who were present.