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another. The students contend that outsiders dwell too much on these little irregularities, which do but surround the monotonous business of College life as a fringe, making the hard work possible. Such may indeed be the case, for American girls have at all times a perfect genius for combining work and play let me not be deemed spiteful if I add, especially play-and it is not too much to say that that which makes the Alma Mater dear to most of her daughters' hearts is the number of "good times" to be had within her domains. Again does the College act as mirror of the outer world, for marvellous is the capacity of Columbia's daughters for participating in "good times," in school and out.

In addition to these minor dissipations, Vassar's doors are thrown widely open on "Phil. Day" (the anniversary of the founding of the Philalethean Society), "Founder's Day," and during "Commencement." Then gigantic receptions are held, and the company entertained with music, short lectures, and promenades; according to the occasion and season of the year.

I have spoken of "Commencement -a term commonly employed in all schools and Colleges throughout the United States, though rather a misleading one, signifying, as it does, the close of the school course. It is a misnomer, and objections to it are not removed when one learns that it is intended to denote that the members of the graduating class are commencing their careers, the preparation of the schooling-time being ended. If the ceremonies of such a day have any meaning, surely it is that the school term for all is ended, and not that the individual life of each is beginning. But, misnomer or not, I shall not soon forget "Commencement" at Vassar in 1885.

Situated three miles from Poughkeepsie (Pleasant Harbour in the Indian tongue), on the Hudson, the College stands back from the road about the eighth of a mile, the chief entrance facing the lodge gates. The drive from Poughkeepsie to Vassar is not particularly interesting, and on the June day of which I write, the roads were very dusty, so that the fresh greenery of the College grounds was refreshment alike to sight and scent. Arriving at the entrance, we mounted the steep narrow steps-the only inconvenient feature of the building that I noticed and passed in with the crowd to find the staircase leading to the "Chapel" guarded by some of the "Junior" girls dressed in white and wearing scarf-like badges to mark them as stewards.

I was so lucky as to obtain a good seat for seeing and hearing, and had time to look round the "Chapel," which I should say is capable of holding fully a thousand persons, and is in form an oblong square, with platform at one end surmounted, as in a concert-room, by an amphitheatre of seats, crowned with an organ. Galleries ran down both sides of the room, and these were filling fast with members of the lower divisions and of the Alumnæ Society, which is always well represented at Commencement time. It was interesting to scan their countenances. Looking at the present students en masse, taking them all in all, faces, dress, and manners, one was conscious of a certain sameness in their appearance. Though their ages varied from sixteen to almost thirty,

the stamp of similarity of occupation and surroundings. was still upon them, while with the Alumnæ, the varied lives, the struggles and conflicts which come not in the all but cloisteral seclusion of academic life, had accentuated and produced many differences. But that day, at least, a common spirit pervaded them. Mothers and spinsters, teachers, doctors, society-women, whatever they had become, had a mutual and intense interest in seeing the class of the year stand where they had stood before them, and in recalling common memories of good resolutions formed, of girlhood's ambitious dreams, and half forgotten pleasantries.

Each class is known by the year in which its members graduate; thus in '85, the Sophomores were "class of '87," and the Freshmen, "class of '88."

The hall was soon filled with interested relatives and friends of students, and when all was ready the procession of teachers and professors, headed by the President of the College in gown and Oxford hood, entered and took their places on the platform. They were followed by the classes of '85 and '86, for whom several rows of seats had been reserved in the body of the hall. After prayer, the programme, which consisted of papers by the graduates relieved by one pianoforte solo and a song, was begun. The essays, on the whole, were both clever and interesting. Most were read, some spoken, only one, I think, delivered as an oration.

The first was put down as "The Society of Friendsits Spirit and its Form." It contained an account of the origin of the Quaker sect, with a plea for greater respect and honour to be done to its quiet forms and spiritual creed. It was read softly and clearly, with a dash of cagerness as she warmed to her subject, by a quiet little Quakeress in a trailing gown of grey. In two cases, the papers took the form of a debate. One was entitled "The President of the United States should be elected by Congress," which was answered by "The President should be Elected by the People." Later on we had "The Individual as against the State," followed by "The State as against the Individual." The most striking essay was spoken, not read, and had for its inspiration "The Knight of the Nineteenth Century "-General Gordon. It was characterised by a strong poetic vein, and by the fervour and earnestness of its delivery, which showed how thoroughly stirred the soul of the writer had been by the story of her hero's ever-eager life.

When the essays were all read the members of the graduating class rose in their places, and the President— addressing them in Latin-delivered to them, separately, their Baccalaureate degrees. After this, the diplomas to the candidates from the schools of painting and music were distributed in the same way, each, in her turn, going on to the platform, to receive the important parchment roll with its hanging seal.

The proceedings closed with the singing of the "Doxology," and the large gathering soon dispersed.

The previous day we had driven out to the same place for the "Class Day Exercises." The one essential difference between the observances of the two days is that "Commencement" forms part of the College course, and "Class Day" is a student's affair. The class of the

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and class president walking first-the proud winners of the Baccalaureate degrees entered the room. One had not to look twice to see for oneself why the young lady who headed the procession had been chosen as "Class Marshal." The graceful poise of the well-shaped head, with its fair clustering curls, the tall, undulating form, clothed in flowing robes of soft crêpe and silk in palest shade of heliotrope, spoke for themselves. And be it said-in parenthesis-that no bridal gown, no presentation toilette, is ever thought out with more carefulness, or designed with greater ingenuity of taste, than are the dresses of Vassar's graduates on class days. The president wore a long trained gown of lemon-colour in soft clinging material, with effective trimmings of red velvet. With stately steps, the marshal mounted the stair leading from the right aisle on to the platform; the president followed, and, standing a little apart, they waited thus conspicuously until the rest of the class filled the places reserved for them below. Then the marshal making a low obeisance to her president, who seated herself in a chair placed ready

without trace of arrogance or assertiveness, a character that would commend itself to every member of a large class-one to whom would be awarded by acclamation the task of presiding over the whole.

Stepping to the front, she called upon one of the class to deliver the "Oration." In response, the girl summoned mounted the steps, curtsied low to her president, who resumed her seat, and made a speech referring in oratorical style to the spirit which united one member of the class to the other, and all to the Institution with which they were connected; in conclusion she made a formal farewell to the College-halls, professors, and fellowstudents, paying a tribute of gratitude to those who had been "put in authority " over them during the four years past. (The "Oration" is, at most Colleges, divided into two parts, called the " Salutatory" and the "Valedictory," but at Vassar the arrangement is different.) After this, a tall, well-built girl, with face expressive of much determination, gave us in strong, terse language, the "Class History." To us, as strangers, as doubtless to her "class-mates," she presented a graphic sketch of the

four years during which the class of '85 had worked and played by turns. She thanked the "Juniors" for the splendid "pic-nic" they had given their "Seniors " not long before, when the largest Hudson River steamboat had been chartered to take them down to West Point. She spoke enthusiastically of the gorgeous luncheon prepared for them on board, of which they partook as they drank in the river breezes; while on reaching West Point their eyes were feasted on the natural beauties of the place, on all its points of interest as a military training-school, and "last, but not least, on brass buttons and the cadets who wore them."

A stately reverence, and the speaker returned to her place, to be succeeded by a very pretty girl, at whose

by individual characteristics displayed in the past, she prophesied for each her future. Some were to be doctors of medicine, of course successful in their careers; some were to devote themselves to literature and develop into famous authoresses; one was to take the capitals of Europe by storm as a famous singer. Many and various were the careers predicted, but in and out among the prophecies was heard, ever and anon, the tinkling of wedding-bells. Marriage was frequently announced as a destiny for this one or that-auguring that the "superior women of Vassar, at least, would count the entering of the married state no derogation to their superiority or their womanhood.

With the same state and dignity that marked their

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SENIOR PARLOUR, VASSAR.

(From a Photograph by Vail Bros., Poughkeepsie, N.Y.) She looked like

side a large basket of roses was placed. a very flower herself, in her gown of blush pink silk, the train hanging in long, heavy folds, and was, indeed, as fresh and wholesome an object as one could desire to look upon. No sybilline aspect was hers, although she stood before us in the character of "Class Prophet." Plucking the dainty rosebud "boutonnières," of which the basket was composed, she threw them separately hither and thither among her companions, accompanying them with shafts of merry jest or saucy wit, as, guided

entrance, the Senior and Junior classes passed out of the hall, followed by the whole assembly, who accompanied them through the grounds to the "Class Tree," planted by the graduates two years ago. Beneath it a low platform had been erected, and here the ceremony, consisting of a "charge" from the Seniors with "reply" from the Juniors, was gone through, of burying the class records and handing over the spade to the class of '86. Then the Seniors sang a song, written and composed by two of their number, and having for its refrain the class

motto; this was led by the marshal, who beat time gracefully with her fan.

It was a pretty scene, that group of young girls, standing "as rich as Emperor Moths" beneath the grove of saplings-scarcely to be called trees, yet casting a grateful shadow this warm June day--singing in soft murmuring cadence the sad song of regret at parting, with its burden of the motto chosen four years ago-" Dabunt aspera rosas." Surely, among the bystanders, in the hearts of parents and friends, a wish, a prayer, went up that "Rough places will bring roses," might be an ever recurring refrain, lingering in these maidens' hearts, to sweeten what

of toil, care, and sorrow the after-years might bring. And then nothing was left but to drive away, and preserve in thought and memory the many pretty and effective groupings that this Vassar class day had put before us. And as I mused upon this College life, so new to me, I could but wonder at its many contrasting elements, possible nowhere, surely, but in America. Great land of inconsistencies!-the contrasts of mental energy with frivolous fancy, of justifiable and fitting ceremonial with vain display, of earnest strenuous work with no less earnest strenuous play, which had been briefly, but forcibly, epitomised in the proceedings of those two last days. J. D. HUNTING.

Murder or Mercy?

A STORY OF TO-DAY.

was half-past four, and the morningroom at Minton Court was dotted with confidential groups. Huge logs blazed in the two fireplaces, but no lamps or candles had been brought in to disturb the intimacy of the twilight hour. Tea at Minton Court was always drunk by firelight on winter afternoons. "Darkness is such an aid to scandal," Lady Minton used to say; "how can we pull our neighbours to pieces in the glare of those odious lamps? Half the best things I have ever heard have been told me in the dusk."

The hour of tea was a sociable one, and the surroundings were thoroughly feminine. The morning-room was furnished in that heterogeneous manner which is the characteristic of our time. There were many screens, and palms in brass pots, Indian mats and Japanese tables, Turkish divans and Smyrnese carvings, while a number of Rajon etchings, framed in black, made a sad note on the Pompeian-red walls, giving the otherwise over-luxurious room that touch of studied pathos which is ever present in the complex and many-sided life of today. The curtains were not yet drawn, and far off, apart from the group of dainty figures who were clustering round the tea-table and the fire, stood a young girl with her face pressed against the window. It was a cold, melancholy afternoon, and outside a heavy white fog was gathering over the frost-bitten grounds, making a fine contrast to the gay and cheery scene within-doors. Suddenly she turned with a cynical little laugh from the window. "What a fool I am!" said the girl to herself. "I have been standing at that cold window for exactly twenty minutes. And for what reason? Because Dr. Brooke chose to go out for a walk over the moors on a particularly impossible day, and hasn't come back yet. Is that a reason why I should go without my tea, not to mention the awful possibility of catching a cold in my head, and having a red nose?-Oh, thanks, Captain Egerton, I should like some tea, awfully "and repeating the last sentence aloud, Alison Bligh came forward into the fire-light.

Even in the flickering fire-rays she revealed herself as a very striking girl. There was an unmistakable touch of sensuousness in the full lips, and in the clear-cut nostrils, which were the best part of a nose which was somewhat too thick for a woman, and in the fine curves of her shoulders and bust. But intellect was not wanting, as her broad, well-marked forehead proved; nor determination, which was revealed in the square lines of her jaw and chin; nor a certain amount of ideality, which looked out of her somewhat dreamy eyes-dark, Southern eyes which were in direct contradiction to the twists of pale red-gold hair which crowned her head. In sum, a very dangerous young woman, whom Lady Minton was wont to declare she would not trust with her own husband, although Sir Francis was past seventy, and a pattern of the conjugal virtues.

Miss Bligh felt her spirits rise suddenly as she took her place in the cheery circle round the fire, and she smiled when she thought of her watch by the window just now. How cold and miserable she had felt-how ridiculous to have ceded to such a sentimental impulse! That was not her way either; she, who had long ago made up her mind to snatch every moment of happiness -every pleasurable emotion even-that life could offer her. And then the soft voice of Lady Minton was heard saying, "Alison, when you have quite finished with Captain Egerton and those muffins, pass them both on. And do, like a dear child, sing us something."

Miss Bligh thereupon sprang up and went to the open piano.

"I will sing you," she said gravely, "a little romance which I heard once at the Variétés. I believe it has a moral. Judic used to sing it;" and striking up a quaint accompaniment, she sang some words familiar enough on the Boulevards.

While the room was echoing with plaudits on her rather risky performance, the door opened and a man of about five-and-thirty came in and sat down in a rocking-chair at the far end of the room.

"Awfully good, by Jove!" cried Captain Egerton, who was leaning on the piano. "I could have sworn

it was Judic herself, only you aren't fat, you know." The last part of the gallant captain's sentence was a tender whisper intended for Miss Bligh's ear alone, but, like many other soft speeches, was perfectly audible to the rest of the room. Dr. Brooke frowned as he moved from his seat near the door and, coming forward into the fire-light, asked Lady Minton for a cup of tea.

"So glad you're back, doctor! We all thought you were lost on Exmoor," said Lady Minton, purring over her guest as she poured him out some tea.

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Yes, we were all looking forward to seeing you brought home stiffly frozen on a shutter!" cried Alison, who seemed in the highest spirits. Had she forgotten her impatient watch by the window only half an hour before?

"Ah, the gods don't love me. I shall not die young," said the doctor, whose keen eyes were riveted on her face. Then the party broke up into small groups, and it was either by choice or chance that she found herself, only a few minutes later, standing alone with him at the same window at which she had watched half an hour before.

"I am glad you are back," she said at last, half-shyly, as the young man stood and gazed at her in the dusk. "Are you? You knew I was out, then?" "Yes."

"None of the others missed me, I should imagine. They were playing some game which looked uncommonly

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like kiss-in-the-ring' when I left.

that lot?"

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Oh, no.

Were you one of

some great misfortune to lose all your money, for instance, or catch the small-pox--you would have very little to fall back upon. You might feel the want of 'the consolations of religion.'"

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"No, I don't think I should. piness," she added dreamily, were ever to befall me, I should not want to live. I did not ask to come into the world, and why, forsooth, should I not go when I am tired of it? Life, after all, is very like a party to which some one else has insisted on our going. If we are bored, we are surely not bound to wait till the very end. We leave when we please." Dr. Brooke looked steadily at her.

"You are a very strange girl, Miss Bligh. Not one woman in a thousand would dare to say such a thing as that. But I think you are right. There are cases when death is a release from torture, mental and bodily."

"How did we get on to such a lugubrious topic?" said Alison, shivering slightly, and turning away from the dark landscape.

There was a pause, and then the young man said suddenly—

"Why did you sing that song just now?"

"I don't know," said Alison, with drooping eyes. "Do you know what it means?"

I

"Do you?" she said, raising her eyebrows innocently. "I walked the hospitals in Paris for two years. understood every word."

“Oh, I am sorry. I thought, with my accent, and an

I have been in my room all the afternoon." English audience, that I should be perfectly safe." "Thank Heaven for that!"

Alison smiled at the fervour of his tone.

"Would you have minded much if I had been 'one of that lot?""

The doctor frowned. "I should have been ratherdisappointed. I should have thought very little of you if you had."

"Well-I wasn't. But I am afraid it is not a sense of the outraged proprieties which kept me from playing 'kiss-in-the-ring' in the hall. If it could possibly have amused me, I should have done so. I believe in amusing oneself. But somehow or other, that sort of thing doesn't entertain me. Perhaps I am too old—or not old enough; anyhow, I don't care for the infantine pastimes which are the fashion now. I suppose when I am getting on for forty I shall like them."

"Don't do it again," he said; "for Heaven's sake don't. You can't imagine how dreadful it is to see you do a thing like that."

"I never will," she said suddenly, her face flushing scarlet from brow to chin.

"Thank you for saying that," he answered gravely. "Sing something for me, now, will you?"

Miss Bligh answered by moving away to the piano. Brooke stood still by the window, looking out over the snow-covered grounds, and waiting to hear what she would sing. Alison's fingers strayed tentatively over the keys as if seeking the strain which suited her mood best. Presently her clear young voice was heard in Handel's immortal air" Lascia ch'io pianga."

"Handel, instead of Boulevard songs," Duncan Brooke smiled to himself. "That will do. Alison loves me. I

"No, I don't think you ever will," said Brooke, know it-I can see it in her eyes." smiling down at her charming upturned face.

"But I am afraid you don't understand me," she said quickly; "you think me better than I am. I have no moral aim, no aspirations, nothing of that kind. I simply enjoy the present. I suppose, if I wanted to pose, I should call myself an Epicurean. It is strange, but to-morrow' has absolutely no meaning for me; I believe in 'to-day.' I mean to enjoy every hour of my life. After all, what do we know of 'to-morrow'? Nothing. But we do know that roses are divine!" And pulling a hot-house flower from her waist-belt, the girl pressed it, with a pretty, unconventional gesture, to her lips.

II.

It was a passionate yet half-paternal feeling that Dr. Brooke had for this beautiful girl; a feeling akin to that which the tiger cherishes towards its cub, and yet with a yearning tenderness too. He felt that he would gladly have thrown away his life to save her pain, but as it was, he meant to devote his life to her pleasure. Nothing should be spared that could give her a moment's happiness-this little Epicurean who believed so devoutly in the Now! There was nothing, too, which could stand in the way of an immediate marriage. Duncan Brooke had already made a brilliant reputation and a large

"At that rate," said the doctor, "if you were to have practice, and Alison being an orphan with a fortune of

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