THE Galaxy for November is an excellent number of the magazine. It contains a continuation of "Madcap Violet," Essays by Richard White Grant, T. M. Coan, Albert Rhodes, and others. The story of "Miss Ruth" is almost, without exception, the best of its kind that we have read for years.

THE Record states that the time-keeper for the race at Springfield stopped his watch when the winning crew passed the line, but failed, for some reason, to consult it immediately: "When it was consulted it was found to be running, and the announcement was simply the judgment of the time-keeper, and as such cannot be relied upon." It says further, that Mr. L. J. Powers, President of the Charter Oak Park at Springfield, took the time of each mile, and according to his watch Yale made the four miles in 21.01. This is undoubtedly more nearly right than the time-keeper's guess-work, and should be substituted for the figures given in our account of the race. The correct time of our crew would be about 21:30. It is necessary to have these figures correct, as the Record says, to prevent us from misrepresentation in the calculations of the "arithmetic man" at Cornell.

LAST June we entertained an angel unawares. He came from the "University of Wisconsin," and he writes about us to the University Press as follows: "I was struck, as every visitor must be, with the solid intellectual calibre of the professors, but I suppose the summer sunshine and the approaching close of the year's work was having its inevitable effect on the students; certain it is, the recitations were nothing to boast of, and were, in my opinion, much below the average recitations of the Wisconsin University." He proceeds to take the readers of the Press and introduce them, "in imagination," to the "Emerronian face" of Dr. Peabody, - whatever that may be. Then he ventures "to drop in a moment upon that remarkable native of the classic land of Greece, Professor Sophocles, whose worthy timeworn face is surrounded with a monstrous pile of snow-white hair, and who advances toward you with such a looseness of manner and dreamy intelligence of expression, that you wonder whether the veritable old Greek poet and the more modern Rip Van Winkle have not in some strange manner been merged into one, and are standing before you." He goes into English I. and hears "the learned comments of the fat professor"; does up Memorial Hall, and departs, to criticise other "institutions of learning."