that the mule was designed to throw people off; and this evidence of design is strengthened by its power of inserting its head between its fore-legs, and rearing up its tail to an alarming height, so that we very much wonder that the learned Archdeacon has not introduced the "case of the mule" into his interesting work on Natural Theology, along with his ninety-six links of sausage envelop in the interior of the deer. Perhaps though the mule, being a near relation of the ass, was too delicate a subject, or (which is more probable) the worthy Doctor hesitated to introduce so skittish a steed amongst his "hobbyhorses."

This digression has brought us some distance on the road to the mill, and to the descent of a steep hill. Now bearing in mind the conformation of the mule, you will readily see that in ascending a hill, its back furnishes a fair specimen of a horizontal line; but in descending, the rider's only chance is to brace his feet firmly against the animal's ears and take it as easy as possible. However, with "patience and a little sweet oil" we bid fair to "come the perpendicular" in safety, when a drunken old sinner came galloping down behind us, singing at the top of his voice that well known song, commencing,

"All hail, the power of whiskey's name."

This was too much for the sensitive nerves of Jenny. One flirt of her heels sent the bag and myself flying twenty feet down the slope, and half a dozen bounds placed her at the bottom of the hill, whence she looked back with an expression of conntenance anything but flattering to the one who should attempt to catch her again.

One single remark further, and then, like the man the calf ran over, we've nothing more to say. Just imagine the readers of the Yale Lit., the mill-the Yale Lit., the bag-and the Quintumvirate, 'to'ther" critter"-and you have a moral to adorn the tail of our mule.

A CHAPTER ON VALEDICTORIES.

BY A STATEMENT OF FACTS-MAN.

Every student, on entering College, should aim to take the Valedictory. It may be necessary to sacrifice his health to accomplish his object. But what is health, compared to the Valedictory? It may be necessary to deny himself all the pleasures and profit of social intercourse for four years, and that too when he is just changing from the boy to the man. But who would not consent to be a boor for the rest of his life, in order to take the Valedictory and strut the platform at Commencement, the cynosure of all College eyes? It may be necessary to forego the desire to master any other branches except those in the College course, while he pores over every et and yap, every letter and comma of a long lesson to procure a four on the tutor's book; in other words, to become the Valedictorian at the expense of the Scholar. But then his College reputation will secure him from any rigid examination in future; for who will have the audacity to question the attainments of a man that took the Valedictory; besides, at the end of two or three years he is sure to be a College tutor. Aye, there's a goal worthy of the ambition of the veriest Napoleon of Learning. In view of such considerations as these, it is astonishing how few students in each class take Valedictories. Ah! Rome, how hast thou fallen! Degenerate sons of Yale, instead of plodding on foot along the dusty well-worn McAdam of Learning, why will you take nigh cuts on ponies, searching for forbidden fruit on wayside flunks, or loitering for days by cool meandering fizzles? Reform-reform. Pitch out of your window your guitars, your flutes, your "Susannahs," your "Lovely Maes," your "Jane Eyres," your cigars, your visitors, your old habits, everything. Make a great 'e-scape goat of the whole, on which your sins may flee to the mountains; cry, "not at home," to every sound except the College bell. Do this, and the warning I have given you will not have been without A-VALE.

A CHAPTER ON RAZORS.

BY THE SEXTON.

There is no more striking proof of the superiority of the Lords of creation over the other sex, than the fact that the former can enjoy the luxury of being shaved, while the latter cannot. This distinction is so strongly marked that, in some parts of the country, boys are proverbially called little shavers. With what a smile of delight does a candidate greet the sight of the striped pole! with what activity ascend the stairs! with what dignity, assume the chair! with what complacency survey the little preparations of the barber! Then with what care does he of the perfumed fingers tuck the napkin under the chin! with what mathematical precision does he adjust the "upright" to the comfort of his customer, whether he be a "long Jimmy" or a stumpy "ale-barrel!" Your barber's chair (so named on the lucus a non lucendo principle, since everybody sits in it except the barber) is no Procrustes' bed, no Cindarilla's slipper. It fits everybody. Then the lathering-how unlike the lathering you used to get when you were a little shaver: the firm steady play of the scythe as it reaps its snowy harvest; the cutting remarks of the man who has you by the nose; and last of all, the dreamy languor of satisfaction that makes the grand finale of the operation. You are no longer the victim of a necessary pleasure. Astride a pole, you roam through fairy barber-land. Countless razors are pendant from every tree, and glitter in the sunlight, like the boughs of a New England forest, on a bright winter morning after a night of sleet and storm has clasped every twig and tendril in its cold glittering embrace. Down the precipitous sides of the mountain, which are of hone-stone" formation," leap torrents of fragrant eau de cologne that discharge themselves into a vast sea of soap and water, whose foamy waves beat the shore, making

Music that floats on the still silent air,

Like the scraping of razors a' cutting of hair.

There too, are sleek lazy-looking tame she-bears, whose distended udders furnish an abundant supply of oil instead of milk; while enclosed in an elliptical amphitheater is a large well-fed herd of young comets, whose tails furnish an annual supply of brushes. I wonder the prophet of the Koran, instead of painting Heaven to his followers as a paradise of women and wine, did not make it one long eternal shave. But I remember-Mohammed was a Muzzleman and wore a beard. The more fool he. Had he but known the magic of thy touch, oh, N., how different might have been his fate! Had he but felt the keen edge of thy blade,

"Still so gently o'er him steeling,"

Arabia, the world would have had a new religion. Alas! that thy hand and his head did never scrape acquaintance. Those who came under thy care, thou didst put to sleep quicker than any man I ever knew except our worthy Doctor

But, to return. An ice-cream, a soda, or a cigar tickles the palate with an agreeable sensation, but a shave makes you feel good all over. Instead of saying to a misanthrope, "go hang," I would say, "go shave." The result of either course would probably be alike beneficial to the world, but there is no comparison in the pleasure of the two operations.

My readers will bear in mind that I have been speaking of being shaved, not of shaving one's self. I am aware that some men do shave themselves; but it is a miserable, suicidal Sangrado operation, a beggarly economy. Shade of Esop! my beard curls painfully at the bare idea. Just think of a rusty, saw-edged, horn-handled old blade, used in the intervals to pare nails and "open oysters," sharpened on a brickbat, and receiving the finishing touch on the back of an old Dictionary, no more like the polished blade of the professional Artist, than the knife with which the schoolboy cuts his cheese is like the scimetar with which Saladin sliced the cushion that he threw into the air in the presence of Richard and his train; or than—than a Buzzard is like the noble Eagle that flew over Gen. Combs' head in '44. However, my good friend, since you will shave yourself, just station yourself, with your hard, rough, halfsoaped beard, before that little cracked looking-glass, and commence. Make one stroke. Aha! it hangs, does it? Yes! and so should you, for using it. But come,

try again. Crying, are you? Hairs have some roots, have n't they? But don't give up; try it again-it's a heap cheaper than the other plan. There! you've cut yourself handsomely. Now throw the d-d case-knife out of the window, and go and pay for a quarter's shaving in advance.

Now, shaving one's self is bad enough, heaven knows; but I grieve to say there is in College a still worse practice. Many of the members of this time-honored institution, from whom we ought to expect better things, not only do their own shaving, but actually make their own razors. But I must explain for the benefit of the uninitiated. A pun, in the elegant College dialect, is called a razor, while an attempt at a pun is styled a sick razor. The sick ones are by far the most numerous; however, once in awhile you meet with one in quite respectable health; and I shall close this chapter by presenting you with a case of some half dozen, which you can make the most of, premising, however, that although they appear to be from the genuine manufactory, yet as they came through the Post with a fictitious signature, it is barely possible that, after all, they may be but a shave.

ODE TO A YOUNG FRIEND WITH A PAIR OF RAZORs.

Unhappy youth, to whom I send
These razors, keen and new,
You little know, my gentle friend,
The scrapes in store for you.

Your chin that now is covered o'er
With hairs like down of thistles,
Will soon become a monstrous bore,
And, like a boar, all bristles.

And when to make the chin look snug,
Your blunted razor tries,
Each fractious hair will, like a plug,
Draw water from your eyes.

In happier days of winter time,
You used to blithely sing,

But now you'll find a Christmas rime
A most unpleasant thing.

Well, thine is but "the common lot"

Each mortal man must brave,

The pap-boat-then the shaving-pot

For man was made to shave.

CHILDE-HAROLD, JR.

Here the devil came groping up the dark stairs by the light of a match, to tell us there was room for but half a dozen lines more.

A classmate of ours, who was one of a party of young ladies and gentlemen who visited "East Rock" last week, has informed the Editors confidentially, that it is a trap-rock, and that he will be a candidate for the silver cup.

66 Don't tell Prescott."

"One line more," shouted the imp under our window.

A QUARTER CHAPTER ON RUSTICATION.

BY ONE THAT KNOWS.

Try it.

EDITORS' FAREWELL.

A TWELVEMONTH has passed away since to our hands was committed the management of the Yale Literary Magazine. We have endeav ored faithfully to discharge our trust, and hope we shall be thought not to have altogether failed. The time has now arrived for our connection with it to be dissolved. A single word, and we in our turn commit it to other, and we trust abler hands.

It is perhaps but natural that we should feel a momentary pain at parting with what has for so long a time been the object of our thoughts, our hopes, and our fears. We cannot, however, express very deep regret that the period has arrived for our editorial labors to terminate. For, though with them ceases much that has afforded us pleasuremuch that we shall delight to remember and look back upon—yet it is a source of no little gratification to know, that we are henceforth relieved from a burden of care, labor and responsibility to which we have felt wholly unequal.

To our successors, we deem it unnecessary to address ourselves, either in language of admonition or encouragement. You assume, it is true, no trifling task; but of this you are well apprized. You come to the work not without having counted the cost, and not without being prepared to meet it. You receive too a Magazine occupying the high vantage ground to which thirteen years of love have raised it, and whose reputation is unrivaled among similar periodicals of our land. Success, then, crown all your efforts to raise it still higher, and make it the pride of every son of Yale.

To our Classmates-Subscribers and Contributors-to all, who have manifested their sympathy, encouraged our labors and lightened our toils, we return our sincere and warmest thanks. And with a prayer for each and all, that you may realize your most sanguine hopes in life, and that Heaven may grant you all good, we bid you, patrons and friends-FAREWELL.