AN ANNUAL ILLUSION.

DIGGER sat grinding away in his room one night just before the Annuals. It was very late, but Digger's examinations came all in the first few days; and so he worked away, thinking remorsefully of his nights at the theatre and of his numerous "cuts." He was looking up the questions on old examination papers, and as he took up a Political Economy paper his head swam dizzily round, and he could hardly make out a question. "On what does the price of college rooms depend?" was the first that met his eye.

"Let me see," said Digger. "College rooms are a commodity of the third class; that is, they can be increased indefinitely, but at a greater cost, because each new building is more expensive than any of its predecessors. Therefore the value of college rooms must be regulated by the cost of the worst rooms. No, that is wrong - that is, Mr. Mill is wrong, or else the College authorities have transgressed a law of value, or else I am a little confused. I'll rest myself by a change of work. Let me see. Here is a Fine Arts paper."

"Who was Rubens?" was the first question. "I can surely make a rush on that," soliloquized Digger. "Rubens was a Flemish painter, - his other name is not known, - and he was famous for his masterpiece, the 'Rape of the Sardines.'

"That don't sound just right either. I am a little mixed. I'll try an extemporary theme for English 5, or, better still, I'll repeat a little English; that will quiet my nerves. I'll begin with Milton's sonnet on a Freshman addicted to bragging:-

'The Freshman stalks o'er Harvard's walks,

Arrayed like Solomon in glory.

He tells a tale of cards and ale,

And the wild Sophomore hears his story.

Blow, Freshie, blow, set the wild rumor flying;

Blow, Freshie, echo answers, lying, lying, lying.'

"Dear me," sighed Digger, "something is the matter with my head. That is neither Milton nor English; it is Browning. I'll try something from Comus:-

'With eyelids heavy and swelled,

With head hot, heavy, and weak,

A Junior sat in the top of Weld,

Grinding away at his Greek.

Grind, grind, grind,

With never an end to the work.

Because he had cut all the first of the year,

He sang the song of the shirk.'

"Worse and worse," cried Digger. "I am going crazy." And he rushed down the stairs, and out into the Yard. He was prepared for anything, and therefore was not surprised to see the College pump advancing to meet him with outstretched handle.

"Are you Tacitus, or Pliny?" asked the Pump.

"I hardly know," said Digger. "I may be the younger Pliny; at any rate I'm a Junior."

"You've been drinking," said the Pump.

"No; you can't get it in Cambridge. But I've been grinding."

"Very much the same thing," replied the Pump. "Young man, I preach temperance in all things. Take my advice. Give up working late at night, and play lawn tennis."

Digger went sadly back to his room, and while preparing to go to bed, made a great many good resolutions for next year.

MR. LUCIUS L. HUBBARD, '72, has in press a practical guide-book to Moosehead Lake and vicinity, with illustrations and a map of Northern Maine. It will be ready by July 1.