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HOSPITALITY AT MONTREAL.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

THE way in which the Harvard Foot-Ball team and their friends were received at Montreal showed that there was no forced feeling, but a true desire to do everything possible to make our men carry away delightful recollections of the trip.

Everything was done for them, besides the great dinner on Saturday night, - knots of Harvard men were entertained every day at the three clubs; they were driven up the picturesque mountain, shown the many points of historical interest in the suburbs and surrounding country, escorted all over the quaint city, taken to the Lacrosse match, steeple-chases, fox-hunt, and to dinners and breakfasts every day at the clubs or at private houses.

Never will Harvard forget the obligations under which she lies to Montreal, and we only hope the time may not be far distant when we shall have the pleasure of doing what little is in our power to return their sincere proofs of good feeling and true hospitality.

LA BONNE.AS I was thinking about what I should write upon this week, I heard a slight jingling of keys outside the door, followed by a very faint tap. I sang out, "Come"; upon which I heard the sound of a key grating in the lock; but, as the latch was up, the key did n't turn, so it was taken out, and the goody, for she it was, opened the door in the way that anybody else would have tried at first. She glided into the bedroom with a subdued "Good morning, sir," and reappeared with great promptness, having passed the not too long period of one minute and thirty seconds (when out of sight she is a marvel of quickness) in arranging my bedroom.

She then proceeded to take the ashes from the grate; during which operation I was endeavoring to calculate from how many rooms she had already removed the ashes that morning, before she had smoothed my counterpane, for I can't say that she had made my bed. After she had taken away as much of the ashes as pleased her, she returned with a feather duster, which she shook around the room, thereby shifting the dust from the bookcase to the centre table, from the centre table to the side table, and so about the room. I have calculated that the dust revolves around the room at the rate of once in four days, and that it gains half its volume in every revolution.

I have one thing to be devoutly thankful for, - my room has not been swept this fall. O, how I look back to those sweeping days of last year; how. I used to come to my room some cold day in January with a friend to have a chat before the fire, and find the door and windows wide open, and hear a voice come from out of the dust, saying, "I'll be through directly, sir," and she generally was. She succeeded admirably in removing the dust from the carpet and lodging it on the pictures and furniture, from which at the next dusting a large portion would descend to the carpet again.

My goody is beyond scolding; she is so very meek and small, that if I mildly remonstrate with her for having forgotten my room some morning, or for some other such trifling misdemeanor, she cowers and seems about to melt away in tears. This of course makes me feel myself to be a cruel tyrant; so I have to say that it is of no consequence and change the subject.

O Alma Mater, if thou canst not provide us with women who can take proper care of our rooms, at least bestow upon us those that we can scold!

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