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HE was a very "doggy" Senior on his way from Boston to Cambridge in one of the commodious yellow sardine-boxes furnished by the Union Railway. (Elevated railroads and voluntary prayers are things of the future.) He sat in the centre of a space wide enough for two, - dreamily thinking of the kindness of the Refrigerator and Ficklety of Harvard College, and planning up some pretty little present to give the proctors * when he left.
All went well until Dana Hill was passed, when a tall, stately, aesthetic-looking maiden entered the car, and walked in a highly cultured manner through the straw toward where our Senior was sitting. Now, as the reader doubtless knows, aesthetics will crop out in sitting down as well as in the more important concerns of life.
To show this quality in sitting down, a lady should push her dress back with her right hand, and glide gently but firmly down an imaginary inclined plane to the right. The aesthetics come in in so timing the operation that the hand may be slipped out just before it is too late.
Now, Ted, poor man, was not "up" in aesthetics, and seeing the maiden seize her dress with her right hand, naturally supposed that she was going to sit on his left, and hastily moved the other way. In an instant she sat down in his lap, and as quickly arose. Ted hastily stepped to the other side of the space, but unhappily the maiden conceived exactly the same idea. Another carom without taking the cushion. This was getting embarrassing. Two or three Freshmen smiled softly, while the Echo man in the corner was seen rapidly taking notes. One more move, and yet another collision. Ted was desperate. The cold perspiration stood on his brow, and rising with dignity, he said: "Madam, permit me" .... but, alas! losing his balance he clutched wildly at the air, and seized her waist.
"No, I shall not, sir! What do you ..."
"Harvard Square," said the conductor, and Ted left.
R. R.
* Proctor - A species of intermittent volcano, covered with a crusty substance when not in a state of eruption. - Webster.
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