The first Class-meeting ever held was with reference to the Statement of Facts. In a body, the Class voted to "rush '61. And "rush '61" they did, accomplishing the feat in a shorter time than the same act had ever taken, within the memory of the oldest Collegian. Soon after, having undergone, perhaps more severely than usual, the trials and tortures of the Court of Areopagus, the Class, sympathyzing with a certain "disinterested internuntius," condoled with their tyrants over their sudden abscision from College, and in a Class meeting besought the Faculty for a mitigation of the sentence. This, the Faculty saw fit to allow, whether influenced by the Class, or by a prominent New York Divine, tradition sayeth not. Vast and earnest were the attempts to procure a class-motto; scathing was the Greek Professor's ridicule at the classic efforts of '62; but the result amply rewarded the pains. Pow-wow created an immense commotion. Why was not Powwow capable of reform? Why not go down to the Light-House, or to the end of Long Wharf, and have a Jubilee, or take a swim, instead of enduring exhaustion, both of vocal powers and of patience, on the State House steps? The Reformers were strenuous in their opposition, but, alas for their cause! succeeded not. The Class would be blind, would blow tin-horns, would convert themselves into horrid and fantastic shapes, would serenade Grove Hall, would not listen to reform;-which, as far as Pow-wow is concerned, seems then to have gasped its last. From The Class, to its honor, voted down the "Burial of Euclid." this blow, that Institution never recovered; it lingered through a pitiable existence with the following Class, while their successors have given it the finishing stroke. The "Biennial Jubilee" was a day long to be remembered by the Class. Upson smiled more beneficently upon the occasion than he was ever known to smile before; the day was enchanting; the music capital; the songs have taken a position among the best of our College songs, while the Tutors' speeches, on the return home, were peculiarly witty and urbane, (witness that of the Latin Tutor.) Sophomore year was, upon the whole, quiet. There was less of the traditional Sophomoric character pertaining to it than had been manifested by our predecessors in '61. There were, indeed, occasional outbursts. The windows of two of the South Middle Rooms, at different times, underwent striking metamorphoses. Moreover, ThanksgivingDay found New Haven, like Gaza, gateless and forlorn. The glorious fraternities of K. K. M., and M. K. K., were origina ted in the Class; they lived with the Class, and, like the "Undergraduate," died with it;-Died, said we? In external existence, perhaps; in the hearts of the members, never! In musical matters the Class has always borne its share. The close of Sophomore year demonstrated the extraordinary capabilities of "Biennials are a bore." Old Hundred had heretofore sufficed, but, under the auspices of '62, La Traviata and Pop goes the Weasle, Antioch and Yankee Doodle, with all the intermediate grades, were summoned to assist in the famous "Doxology." Towards the close of Junior year, "How you was, Pete," had an immense run;-only dividing the honors with patriotic symphonies. 'Of late, the pathetic tale of that unfortunate fellow-citizen whose sufferings in loss of sight, and whose remarkable saltatory efforts through the bramble-bush in its recovery, so thrill the soul, has been made the subject of many a midnight wail. And still, more recently, the slumbers of the College have been pleasantly (?) broken by a strain running in this wise; Haul the bowline '62's a rolling, The bowline, Haul! There have been connected with the Army and Navy, at various times, since April 1861, nine members of '62; of whom, six were commissioned officers. The scholarship of '62 will compare favorably with that of any previous Class. The average mark of the Valedictorian is 3.59, being .01 higher than that of '61, and .02 higher than that of '57. He is, therefore, the Champion of High Stand. The number of appointments for Commencement is sixty-two, three more than '61 had. The occupations in which the Class expect to engage are as follows: Probably the number of those who will enter the Army is much greater than above stated. Sixty-Two has lost by death four of its members; John Abbott Ward died at Palmer, Mass., March 4th, 1862; Grosvenor Starr died at Tybee Islands, March 5th, 1862, while Adjutant of the 7th Conn. William Henry Miller died in Camp before Yorktown, Va. April 30th, 1862, while Captain in the "Ellsworth Avengers ;" Thomas Augustus Simpson died at Poughkeepsie, N. Y., May 25th, 1862. Thus much for the Class now setting out.-May they prove to be to the world, as they have been to each other during their College course, Ἑκάστῳ σύμμαχοι πάντες. R. S. & A. F. J. Last Days of Washington. MAGNIFICENT as are the proportions which the character of Washington has not only assumed but maintained through two generations, they have never stood forth with such distinct grandeur as at this time, when reflected on the background of the present historical epoch. No period in the life of this illustrious man is more important than that which elapsed from the close of the Revolution to his death. A great contest involving the issues of national existence had just been successfully terminated. America was free. The dreary encampments at Valley Forge, the severe and rigorous winter on the heights at Morristown, the sufferings of the Colonists during those dark years of British aggression were no longer present realities, but chapters in the history of the past. A great stride in the course of republican liberty had been made with success. Guided by the sagacious counsels of Washington, the American people had safely emerged from the conflict; had broken in sunder the last link of the chain which bound them to the English throne, and established a Government on the solid foundations of truth and justice. But as yet it was only an experiment. The result was doubtful. Some experienced hand must be at the helm of the Ship of State. Washington accepted the sacred trust. The eyes of the world were upon him at the commencement of his administration. His efforts in the field had been crowned with glorious success: would the same success attend him in the cabinet ? A perilous state of exhaustion and a frightful spirit of discord pre vailed over the land. The Revolution had gained us liberty: how should it be preserved? Washington alone was equal to the work. To the independence of his personal position, his superiority to intrigue, and even the suspicion of a selfish motive, to his sound practical judgment, and above all, to the universal reverence for his entire character, the United States are mainly indebted for their happy escape from the peculiar dangers incident to their position. The first administration closed, and again he was called to the Presidential chair. Four years more swiftly passed away, and a third time a confiding people was ready to bestow on him the highest office in their gift. But no. The great Leader, the successful General, the distinguished President had already decided otherwise. Having reached the acme of his wishes, having lived to see the new Government adopted, his beloved country raised from the brink of ruin to the height of prosperity and honor, he determined to retire from the wearisome duties of office to the quiet of private life. But feeling for his countrymen the solicitude of a father for his children, and fearing the baneful effects of that party spirit which destroyed the once glorious Republics of antiquity, he drew up for them a farewell address, the parting testimonial of his love. Would that its inestimable precepts had been better heeded! How earnestly are we exhorted to guard with external vigilance the liberties which our Fathers won! How affectionately are we entreated to observe that unity of Government which constitutes us one people; "indignantly frowning upon the first dawning of every attempt to alienate any portion of the country from the rest or to enfeeble the sacred ties which now link together the various parts." Immortal words! May they give strength and vigor to every effort put forth for the restoration of our imperilled Government. May they give encouragement to every loyal heart, and be not only to us but to our Brethren in the South the watchwords for the old union. The months passed swiftly by and the close of Washington's public life was at hand. Having seen his successor safely inaugurated, he gladly set off for Mt. Vernon, the home of his choice, there to close in peace the short evening of his illustrious life. Had the prayers and wishes of millions prevailed, Washington would have been immortal in this world. But not even he was exempt from the debt which we must all pay. Suddenly and unexpectedly the Angel of Death appeared. His hour had come. It is said that a man's death is generally the copy of his life. The firmness, the courage, and the patience which had marked the career of Washington were not wanting in his closing hour. His life commanded the admiration of the world. His death was grand and majestic. Without a murmur, without a sigh, he gave his last command, and calmly closing his own eyes, left the world for the kingdom of light and life. What now is the substantial basis in Washington's character that is so broad as to sustain and carry along and justify the accumulated and accumulating eulogiums of the good men of the world? There have been other men, perhaps there are now, as brave, as self-sacrificing as he, of as much apparent administrative talent, of greater, far greater mental force and brilliancy, and yet we cannot place them on the same pedestal of greatness. We turn from the mere hero, the man of battles and conquests, with disgust, from the common herd of Statesmen with mistrust and perhaps contempt. But in Washington we find the full stature of the perfect man. He commands not only our admiration but our confidence. What is the secret? Not simply that he was brave, persevering, selfsacrificing. The true secret of Washington's moral grandeur and political influence was, that he was a God fearing man; not in the fashionable sense, recognizing God coldly and formally once a year in the closing paragraph of a message, but his strength lay in taking practically and intelligently a religious view of affairs. Thus he obtained the highest honor to which mortal man could aspire. The darkness of the grave was unable to obscure the brightness of his glory. His memory is fresh to-day in our hearts. By God's help, our Union restored, our Government preserved, and our Country saved, shall be his monument, eternal as his own imperishable virtues. H. W. S. |