Lasell.

From the full experience of Harvard students, an axiom has been established in our university, which is as firmly founded as an axiom of English. It has taken the Shakesperian form, "All's well that ends Wellesley."

The writer himself cannot testify to the truth of this axiom, but on the strength of the testimony of many friends he asserts a strong belief in the same. The same reasons, however, that make "All's well that ends Wellesley," a self-evident fact, lend a similar charm to a place not many miles from Wellesley, a place which receives more or less attention from Harvard undergraduates, but which has been rather overshadowed in the columns of the CRIMSON by its more famous rival.

The place referred to is Lasell Seminary, in Auburndale. The building occupies the acropolis of the town, and, in case of siege resulting from any sudden exposure of its charms, can be strongly defended.

"To the brave," however, "belong the fair:" so with proper courage, and with a little co-operation from within, the student need not fear. Yet the average visitor will gain more coolness and self-possession, if he spends some little time in looking for the narrow but hidden way that leads to the delightful place, than if he scorns to reconnoitre and scales the high banking. No doubt an entrance by the latter way lends chivalry to the undertaking, in the eyes of the young ladies; but alas, the days of chivalry are past with the powers that be, and a chivalrous entrance will prove of no avail.

Assuming then, not the braving of young Lochinvar, but that of a bookagent, one may reach the entrance of the building in safety; and, if by some freak of fortune the name of the new comer corresponds with a name on the list-that is kept for ready reference in the office of the faculty-he is admitted.

The charms of the location and exterior of the building are only surpassed by the interior beauty, and of course, do not necessarily refer to the interior decorations and fixtures. Those are certainly tasty and appropriate, but he must be a very prosy visitor indeed, who climbs that long hill to study fine arts. The real arts of Lasell are of a finer and more wily sort than those which we students at Harvard book upon as "fine arts."

In one end of the building are the library and reading-room. Here are files of the many college exchanges, and the Harvard man is pleased to find that the Lampoon, Advocate and CRIMSON, are well thumbed.

The chapel is a large commodious room on the ground floor; but in spite of its cheerful, comfortable appearance, it is a pleasant move from the sight of its many empty chairs, to a small cosy parlor-where some of the chairs are not empty.

Many of the features of college life are found at Lasell. There is a Glee Club, the members of which sing the old college songs with all the vigor of their Harvard brothers and "cousins." Then, too, there are the societies. The new student who proves herself worthy of the honor is urged to join the S. D., or the Lasellia Club. The former is very, very secret. The gallant visitor, if his hostess chance to belong to the S. D., of course interprets the letters as the initials for "Seraphic Daisies," but if the hostess be one of the Lasellia Club, he then wrinkles his brow and suggests, "Slighted Damsels."

A new gymnasium has been recently opened. It is fitted up with all the Harvard improvements, including Dr. Sargent, as the opening attraction.

After spending a delightful afternoon,- for callers, and especially Harvard callers, are not received in the evening-the visitor must tear himself away, thanking the Lasell authorities for their kind care over him in so cautiously seeing that he is far away before the damp chilly evening air has set in. He leaves Auburndale and goes happily home, rejoicing in his opportunity, and saying, "Long live Lasell." K.