OUR EXCHANGES.

IT really seems as if the quality of what are known as light articles is improving. We are beginning to have something worth reading, and something besides dreams. Especially bright and amusing are "A Summer Concert," from the Yale Record, and "Only a Vassar Girl," from the Columbia Spectator.

EVERY now and then some one of our "esteemed" contemporaries inveighs against the appreciative but unconscientious student who borrows the papers from the reading-room. The men at Dartmouth, however, are not quite so wicked as that: they content themselves with cutting out whatever happens to suit their taste, and the rest they leave generously to those who may come after. Moreover, "these persons are the very ones who leave their subscriptions to the Dartmouth unpublished," as that righteously indignant journal informs us.

THE following madrigal, from the Trinity Tablet, is too pretty to be read only by our friends at Hartford:-

You asked me, pretty Mabel,

Sweet Mabel, none so fair,

If I would send a rose to you

To twine within your hair.

But O, my fairest Mabel,

I think you will agree

That favor never puzzled one

As this has puzzled me.

For I cannot, lovely Mabel,

I cannot send to you

The rose which blooms in blushes red,

The rose of crimson hue;

For when the red rose saw you, dear,

So lovely and so meek,

'T would pale before the richer glow

That lingers on your cheek.

And yet, my sweetest Mabel,

I cannot send to you

The rose which blooms in purest white,

The rose of lily hue.

For when the white rose saw you, love,

It surely would, I trow,

Blush bright with lovely crimson,

Ashamed before your brow.

And so, my lovely Mabel,

You see me puzzled quite;

I cannot send the crimson rose,

I cannot send the white.

And either you, my Mabel, must

Become less sweetly fair,

Or I can never send a rose

To twine within your hair.