THE HESPERJ AN
orifices of my mind with potential and
kinetic psychology. Yorily men are foolish.
Imagine 0 my dairy! just imagine how
tenderly lovable, I felt this p. m. as I road
the following questions that were to be
speculated about by forty speculators.
'Idealism is true ; according to idealism
everything is a sensation. The dinner that
you have just eaten was a sensation. The
pencil you are holding in your hand is only
a sensation. You are but a sensation.
Provo then, by the concatenation of coexist
ing circumstances and sequences, that a sen
sation is a sensation and can never bo any
thing but a sensation until the posterior
pendant lobe of the hypophesis breaks loose
from all bonds and, contrary to the laws of
gravitation, seeks to establish a revolution in
the encephelon by occupying a formidable
position in the substantia nigra."
This was only a starter. Our poor pro
fessor, however, seemed to be exhausted, so
he stepped down into his labratory, and after
having drunk the contents of a aixteen-cell
battery, returned to the fray. Ho seemed
even then a little unsteady.
"Imagine that you had been picking rasp
berries last summer, and one of those orna
ments of insectivora, called tho chiggor, had
formed an attachment for your back. Im
agine further that this little insect had bur
rowed into your spinal chord until he had
reached the central canal and then his as
pirations had taken a turn for something
higher. Provided that tho aforesaid chiggor
had followed the canals of tho spinal chord
and nervous system, through what hollows
would ho have passed boforo reaching tho
brain, and state his different degrees of hap
piness at each stage of this journey. How
many times a second would his pulse be
beating when ho reached tho calamus scrip
torious? How heavy a burden would bo rest
ing upon his conscience when ho got direct
ly beneath the tola vasculosa? Givo his
exact atomic weight when he would emerge
from tho descending ventricle of tho cere
brum, and a bove all, do not get dis
couraged." After this qnestion had been sprung, just
forty sighs escaped and were rapidly placed
on paper, one quire sufficing for tho opera
tion. At this stage of the proceedings, wo
had filled two roams and one quiro of pa
per, with bpeculations and we desired a
change, so tho profossor asked us a short
question. It was, "What do you under
stand by a noise?" At this moment wo
heard a great sound in the hall outside.
There was one loud voice and three girl's
warbles; then just succeeding theso, tho
penetrating squawk of a curly-headed
senior's ta-ra-ra-boom-do-aye.
"There's your racket, professor," said
tho spokesman of tho class, as he shifted n
piece of rock salt from tho right to tho loft
cheek. Nobody laughed, for the professor
said, soberly, that that noise had become
such a fixture of the institution that tho
chancellor had ordered threo potrefied echoes
of it placed in tho museum alongside of the
Peruvian mummies.
Found a parquet seat ticket on tho street
to-night and so I wont to tho show again
occupying a much more comfortable seat
than UBiial. It was almost compulsory for
me to drown my sorrows in the "Fairy's
Well." These shows aro great educators,
better I fear for me than the University has
been. O well, exercise of tho diaphragm
beats exercise of the brain any day.
Saturday Done! Done!! Done!!!
Scalding tears gush forth upon this pale
white sheet. The sweat of my brow pours
out to minglo with the rivulets of my sorrow.
I have squandered my father's money. He
will make mo work. No more shows! No
more bums! 1 will have to work! Woo,
woo is mo! Would that I had worked more
with my head! I fool poetic. I am in that
mood in which the ancients wrote tho class
ics. Keep back, ye floods of poesy 1 Keep
back! Stay your onward flow! Press not
with such resistless force! Alas, I yield. 1
must givo vent to rhyme. Sweep on 0
verse, sweep on. Here goes:
Break, break, break
On my tender, young head, O Prof.,
And I would I had crammed for your little exams,
For now I'm no longer a Soph.
Oh! Well for the conscienceless boy,
As he pomed his way through to-day;
0! Well for the studious lad
As he helped his best girl o'er the way.
And the F's and the C's coming on,
Give to good and to bad quite a chill;
But 0 how I long for the sight of a P,
And the knowledge that I'm in it still.
Broke, smashed, failed,
In just one short week 0 Prof.,
Will my earnest endeavor in days now to come
Induce you to leave me a Soph ?
