THIRTY YEARS AGO.

(Commencement, Phillips Andover Academy, 1900.) WE learned some Latin thirty years ago,

Some Greek; some other things - geometry.; Baseball; great store of rules by which to know When thus was so, and if it was so, why. And every day due share of pie we ate, And Sunday under hour-long sermons sate, And thrived on both; a sound New England diet, And orthodox. Let him who will decry it.

We spoke our Latin in the plain old way.
Tully was Cicero to Uncle Sam,

And Cæsar, Cæsar. Footballs in our day

Were spheres of rubber still. When autumn

came

We kicked them, chasing after; but the sport Was a mere pastime, not at all the sort

Of combat-strenuous, Homeric, fateful Whence heroes now wrest glory by the plateful.

The higher criticism was an infant then.

Curved pitching had not come, nor yellow shoes,

Nor bikes, nor telephones, nor golf, nor men In knickerbockers. No one thought to use Electric force to haul folks up a hill;

We walked, or rode on Concord coaches still. Expansion's quirks stirred then no fiercer tussles Than such as vexed the growing vogue of

Go make your bodies strong, your minds alert ; Train both to do for you the most they can. Life's goal no runner reaches by a spurt;

Doing the daily stint 's what makes the man. And making men is Nature's chief concern; For right men bring things right, each in its

turn.

Strive, then, to help yourselves, and, that much learned,

Help others; nowise else contentment's earned. EDWARD SANFORD MARTIN.

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH:

A CONTRAST.

I LOVE to watch a rout of merry boys
Released from school for play, and nothing
loath

To make amends for late incurious sloth
By wild activity and strident noise;

But more to mark the lads of larger growth
Move fieldward with such perfect equipoise,

1

As if constricted by an inward oath

To scorn the younger age and clamorous joys; Prepared no less for pastime all their own,

A silent strenuous game of hand and knee, Where no man speaks, but a round ball is thrown

And kicked and run upon with solemn glee,
And every struggle takes an earnest tone,
And rudest sport a sober dignity.

EDWARD CRACROFT LEfroy.

TIME, THE VICTOR.

THE strength and splendour of the world are

ours.

See, how our eyes glow in the morning sun, How down our arms the corded muscles run, How youth sits on our brow like wreathèd flowers!

Health, beauty, grace, High Heaven on us showers;

And deeds-such deeds! - full featly have

we done;

Life's laurel lies in hand, — already won! Poor souls, what strifes near by surpass your powers!

No Runner hath outstripped Oblivion;

No Thrower hurled his mortal strain afar; No Swimmer gained salvation from Time's

wave;

No Wrestler his dim Future seized and thrown; No Vaulter brushed his locks 'gainst any

star;

No Leaper leaped that little gulf, the Grave!

WALLACE RICE.

OF THOSE THAT GO DOWN TO THE RIVER.

Pastor cum traheret per freta navibus.

WHERE Boating Captains on their beat
Go shepherding the tortuous fleet
Of tubs along the river's reedy hollows,
I marked the Genius who addressed
A Freshman with a beefy chest;
The views of Camus were expressed
Somewhat as follows:

"It first behoves you to undo
Of all your buttons just the two

Topmost, and chance the weather being breezy;
Then, swinging stiffly from the hip,
Cause your prehensile heels to grip
The stretcher; at the signal, nip! —
Great Heavens! Easy!

"Where were we?

Yes. There is a rule

Whereby the oarsman, though a fool,
May guarantee the boat against inversion;
Observe your blade; the thing is bent
Obliquely to the element;

Square it at once, and so prevent
Needless immersion.

"Again: deposit, if you please,

Your stomach well between your knees, Aim broadly at the bottom of the vessel; Swing early, often, long, and late ;

This is the doctrine, past debate,
With which the most invertebrate
Fresher must wrestle.

"Reck nothing though the process pain
Your blistered hide and make you fain
To be a scaly merman with a sea-tail;
A time may yet arrive when you
Will be as hardened as a Blue,
And have a soul superior to
Matters of detail.

"That future waits you far and dim,
And in the awful interim

You have to pass a pretty hot probation;
'Much is to learn, much to forget,'
And now and then you 'll feel regret,
And never, never fail to sweat
With perspiration.

"Full often, rowing like an ox,

On you the curses of your cox,

Falling like blasts of some Tyrrhenian trumpet,
Will rend the horror-stricken air

With language fit to curl the hair
That clusters nicely round the fair
Crest of your crumpet.

"Then will you at your rigid thwart
Restrain the apposite retort,

And like the parrot merely think profanely,
The while your heavy head you wag,