BECAUSE the Acta Columbiana published a satire upon New Haven in general, and the Yale Record in particular, the Courant and the News announce that hereafter they will not exchange with the Acta. We are not surprised that the Courant should make so foolish a move; but we had looked for better things from the News. It is too much like the childish, "I won't play with you." We sincerely hope that the Acta may not be obliged to suspend publication because of the determined hostility of Yale.

THOUGH they whisper, he and May,

I can hear each word they say;

For I rest,

Clinging to the ball-room's queen,

'Mid the lace and silken sheen

At her breast.

"Give me but that rose of thine,

I will build for it a shrine

Near my heart."

From my bed she draws me out,

For a moment seems in doubt,

Then we part.

In his waistcoat crushed I lie,

'Mid cigars and purse I die;

E'er the day