THE ROMANCE OF A PIOUS YOUTH.

DID you ever read "Student Life at Harvard"? I don't think any mention is made in it of Percy Altamont Villiers, younger brother of George, the hero of that delightful book. He had read his brother's biography, and, fired by that noble example, he determined to follow in his footsteps, nay, to surpass him. He, too, had had what he called a " fine fit" with a private tutor, and knew few or none of his future classmates, so that he was as well prepared to be a leading man as George had been.

After his entrance examination in Greek, Percy, pursuing his grand idea, addressed his neighbor on the subject of Greek verbs; but to his astonishment the man did not enter into a general discussion of the subject with him, and then, overcome by Mr. Villiers' superior knowledge, conceive a violent admiration, and desire the pleasure of his acquaintance. No; this ill-mannered and peculiar young man merely stared and turned away. A little dashed, but not crushed, Percy persevered in his laudable efforts.

Rivalling his great exemplar, he became a dig. He refused to countenance any such Freshman immoralities as beer and cigarettes; he would not even eat peanuts in Latin recitations. He never cut prayers, or said, "Not prepared." But yet, in spite of his noble character and many excellences, no handsome and popular upper-class man became his guide and friend, or instructed him in a Senior's philosophy. The upper-class men, in fact, came and hazed him. They turned an empty water-pail upside down over his head, and smoked perique and green seal under it till he was nearly black in the face. They made him crawl under the table and bark like a dog (which he did very naturally, with a puppy-like whine that nearly killed the Sophomores with laughter). When they recovered, and allowed him to come out, he merely gazed at them with his beautiful china-blue eyes full of that look of meek reproach for which his brother was famous. To his intense astonishment, they did n't slink out of the room abashed and ashamed. They only said that he looked so pious he ought to lead them in prayer; and they made him do it too.

He abhorred the theatre; for he had frequently heard his good pastor (who had never been inside one in his life, and so was a very competent judge) say that the Devil lurked behind the scenes. Percy had no desire to encounter that gentleman prematurely, and stayed away. Billiard-rooms and Carl's were anathema maranatha, and he refused to go to athletic meetings, because he had heard that the horrid sin of betting was prevalent at them. He frequently lectured his classmates on their immorality, and even wrote of their wickedness to the Herald. But, instead of being looked up to as "a superior young man," he was shunned by his fellows, and even the Cambridge ladies could not stand him. They said he was a horrid, conceited little snob.

In the Senior year he finished his efforts for the welfare of his class. He wrote a note to a gentleman interested in such matters to say that the examination papers were sold. He usurped the office of a certain great man, and sent a letter to the mother of an acquaintance advising her to remove him from college. But the lady did not answer, and his classmates sent him to Coventry; and he was n't class orator, and he did n't marry the marshal's sister.

In fact, the career of P. A. Villiers is well worth making a note of by people who get their ideas of Harvard life from "Student Life at Harvard," "Hammersmith," the Boston Herald, and such veracious sources of information.