AN UNDERGRADUATE'S CLASS DAY.

CLASS DAY has two sides. The Senior's side is bright; the world seems made for him, at least for that one day. But for the undergraduate who has had to give up his room and has no friends present, Class Day has its dark side; he is lonely in spite of the gayety around him. Such a melancholy undergraduate linked his arm in mine as we crossed the Yard after the lights were out, and poured forth the following lament:-

"So you 've enjoyed Class Day, have you? Met some interesting girls, I suppose. It 's all very pleasant for you Boston men, but it has been a sober day for me. I did n't mind being turned out of my room, but it was rather hard to be kicked out of Memorial Hall by two infuriated college officers, after I had stolen up through the cellar with the hope of avoiding the rush at the door. Such treatment, ruffles the dignity of a Junior, you know. Of course I liked the exercises, but the Seniors did n't look sad enough, and seemed to take parting as a matter of course.

"Was I present at the tree? Yes, I rather enjoyed sitting on the grass and looking up at the windows. Very pretty were the bits of color, - crimson, white, and blue, - that relieved the dull, grim red of the old buildings. But the exercises seemed a good deal of a farce to me. I fell down, and was stepped on, and the ladies laughed, - so I was glad to get out again.

"Did n't I meet any friends? O yes, at Memorial Hall I met Miss DeLancy, whom I used to know at home. She seemed much amused at seeing me, and asked me how I got in. I had one waltz with her, during which she said that '79 was her class, and asked me if I did n't wish I had been born a year earlier. Then up came an officious Senior and whisked her off to see the illuminations.

"For a time I watched the different types of beauty, - but so much beauty is intoxicating. The brilliant crowd began to oppress me, and I walked over to my room. It was still occupied by the guests of the man who had borrowed it. I sat down on the window-seat outside, and could hear the conversation within.

" 'What a shiftless fellow the owner of this room must be!' said one fair visitor. 'He ought to have a wife to look after him.'

" 'What horrible taste he has!' exclaimed another. 'What can he want of all these ugly mugs and empty bottles?'

"A bachelor's room is always a mirror of his character,' said a literary-looking young lady. 'Behold this filthy pipe, - he is a smoker; observe those German favors, - he is a society man; witness the publicity of these certificates of society membership, - he is conceited.'

"O no!' interrupted a Senior. 'All the students hang their shingles in their rooms.'

" 'Then all the students are conceited,' answered the literary young lady.

" 'Do you suppose he is in love?' asked the young lady who had spoken first.

" 'Let us see if there is anything to betray him,' answered the other, and the whole party began to search the room.

"A woman cannot help reading anything that looks like a love-letter, and I thought it prudent to enter in time to prevent my desk from being ransacked. After they had gone, I found that the nose of my bust of Goethe was broken, my O. K. cookies had been eaten, and a mustache had been painted on my favorite photograph of Mary Anderson. Do you wonder that I fell into a gloomy train of thought? 'This Class Day,' said I to myself, as I looked down upon the throng below, 'is a resting-point in a man's life, - a day which makes him forget to think about the future, and leads him to look back upon the years that are gone. And who can look back without a pang? who can recall, without bitter regrets, the pleasant days and kind faces that he has known? Ah! fair Class-Day revellers, your mirth only saddens me, and I turn from your beautiful faces to those which revisit me out of the gray past.' "

"There, that will do," said I. "One man like you is enough to cast a gloom over the happiest occasion." And as I bade him good night I advised him not to trouble any Seniors with his melancholy thoughts.