THE UNIVERSITY CIRCUS.

IT has come. The long-expected, the widely advertised, the unparalleled circus has come, and we have seen it. There were those who sneered at the superlative adjectives on the large red and blue posters; there were others who refused to believe that any show could equal Barnum's; but they all now agree that the posters, far from exaggerating, did not half express the wealth of this circus, and that it beat Barnum.

After long and patient waiting, the soul-stirring strains of a Bach fugue, interspersed with variations from Haydn's Third Symphony, were heard, and presently the only, the inimitable brass band hove in sight, the bras being loaned, for this occasion only, by the Echo Board.

In the first rank was the Pierian Sodality, dressed in the uniform of a defunct military body. The strains wafted from their instruments filled the air with sweet melody, and did much to soften the fierce spirits of the wild beasts behind.

Then came a squad of high College officials, mounted on ostriches, each bird being shod with gold, and wearing the shield of the University emblazoned on its breast. The skill of the riders did not seem to command the attention that it deserved, perhaps because they have so long ridden a high horse, that every one expected them to do it well.

After them came a caravan of gorgeously caparisoned mules, dragging rich cages behind them In these were very rare specimens, collected, regardless of expense, from all quarters of the globe, and not half so savage as they ought to have been. Several prominent Freshman instructors were said to be in the cage with the foxes and wolves, but the reporter failed to wholly recognize them. They so resembled the real animals that their identification was rendered especially difficult.

Behind the quarter of a mile of these interesting sights came the pet of the whole show, - the baby elephant. It was named "Prayers," and was regarded as the spoilt child of the University. Fear-of-Public-Opinion bolstered its tottering steps on one side; rigid penalties - including suspension - performed this graceful office on the other. A choir - of one feeble-voiced, hired youth - walked in front, enticing it on by singing melancholy hymns. Altogether, it was a forlorn-looking creature.

Passing by the cages of foreign birds, French, Italian, German, and Chinese, - for the most part mocking-birds, - we next see the procession of mediaeval knights, mounted on hobby-horses. Each rider recited his particular speech over and over again, and paid no attention to what any one else said. An aged knight, tastefully dressed in the garb of a scholastic philosopher, led the van. By a happy arrangement of the managers, a corps of Freshmen on ponies appropriately followed at a short interval.

After these glittering files had flashed away in the distance came a score of young tutors as Spanish cavaliers, proudly escorting members of the Annex, whose horses, as if proud of their freight of female loveliness, arched their necks and pranced in haughty glee. The cavalcade was closed by the Chinese professor on a donkey.

Then on a huge car was exhibited the mechanical wonder of wonders, - the marking machine; it has the extraordinary power of always running down without requiring to be wound up. Its inventor has also discovered perpetual motion, and is now busy squaring the circle. A regiment of soldiers guarded this valuable chariot, and led the way for a bevy of proctors, attired in invisible tights, with noiseless moccasins. A vacant chair (of Theology) was carried on the back of a Zulu.

The College watchman was exhibited in an iron cage, heavily shackled; he looked sleepy and harmless, and some urchins running along-side even dared to tickle him with a straw. The whole pageant was brilliantly illuminated by an electric light in charge of a professor of physics, who had borrowed it from Edison expressly for this occasion. The enlivening strains of heavenly melody, the brightly flashing armor of the knights, the brilliant galaxy of starry loveliness, the ferocious roaring of the imprisoned monsters, - all combined to make a scene richer than

"All the wealth of Ormuz and of Ind."

To miss it will be the regret of a lifetime.

The show lasted thirty-three minutes, and then entered its present quarters, where it will remain until further notice. All who go to see it will be presented with a glass of lemonade, a straw, and a degree, gratis. Tickets for sale on the right, near the entrance to the grounds, $150. Reserved seats, $50 to $300, according to location.