A DAINTY Freshman was perambulating one bright morning through the fertile fields, when he met a gorgeous Sunflower. The Sunflower bowed to the Freshman, as he does to the rising luminary.

"Good day," says the Freshman, with his characteristic affability, casting one eye at the gayly decked flower, while he contemplated with the other his own more gorgeous attire.

"We who were once proud of our apparel do homage to thee as a superior being," said the blazing exotic, employing the editorial we as a sign of his importance.

"Indeed," replied the smiling undergraduate, as he pulled down his waistcoat and readjusted his neck-dressing. "Is it possible that you Sunflowers ever thought that the things you wear are in style? Do you get them at Oak Hall or Brine's?"

"Dandy Lyons supplies me with these yellows and browns, which are so much like your own, and Peter Martin is my cutter."

"I thought as much," answered his interlocutor. "I get mine in London."

"I weaken," said the flower, with remarkable humility, manifesting his embarrassment and mortification. "But our garments have something in common," the Pride of the Summer Fields ventured to reply to the Glory of the College Yard.

"Pray what is that?" asked the Freshman, showing by voice and manner his surprise at the flower's presumption, and his anxiety to know what was coming next.

The brazen-faced Sunflower fixed his bold bad eye upon the magnificent representative of the college man, and as he gently nudged him in the side near his pocket-book, remarked, in an undertone, "We both have much dew on our clothes."

Hae f bula docet : All is not gold that glitters.