THE Harvard Man is a very presentable specimen. He has nice curly whiskers and beautifully cropped hair, a brand-new crimson ribbon on his hat, English-cut clothes, a striped ulster, and an eye-glass; and when he speaks, he murmurs in a soft, melodious voice. In short, he seems a superior being, gotten up regardless of expense.

There is much that is contradictory and paradoxical about the Harvard man. He will discourse mellifluously through the day on the subject of Sweetness and Light and the Demoralizing Tendencies of American Life, and then will spend the evening smashing glass in a variety theatre. He is great in theories, - he has one ready for every occasion, - but when you get him down to practice, he is n't there. Too much trouble, really, you know! He can reform the world, - on paper, - but is too fond of his diurnal cigarette and siesta to pitch in and carry out his own ideas. He prefers to dream about it from a distance. In fine, he is a man who spends four years at college in filling his head with fancies that it takes him all the rest of his life to get rid of.

The Harvard Man feels dead sure that he is in love with every pretty girl he meets. He is equally certain that she is hopelessly in love with him.

Taking him as a whole, however, and reckoning up all his failings, merits, virtues, and vices, there remains one thing that may be safely predicted of the Harvard Man: he is always a gentleman.

2. The Vassar Man.THE Vassar Man is a woman. She is a woman who ruins all her prospects of marriage for the sake of a little French, less German, and a minus quantity of Latin. As near as I can make out, the Vassar woman was created chiefly to write little poems on tinted paper; to torture "classical" music out of grand pianos; to furnish paragraphs and jokes to the provincial papers, and to be adored by Yale Freshmen. The old man Vassar made a big mistake when he founded that Poughkeepsie ranch, for the ungrateful young dames who go there persistently ignore the very best thing that Matthew ever produced in his life - his beer. - Acta Columbiana

THE Princetonian has a long editorial on football, of which the following extracts are interesting:-

"We were sorry to see the spirit which prevailed in the game with Yale. In many respects it resembled more a game of a crowd of street muckers than a friendly contest between educated gentlemen. . . . That brutality and an unfriendly spirit are not essential characteristics of football has been amply demonstrated, and that a gentlemanly behavior is possible on the field was shown in our game with Harvard, which was an admirable example of football proper. . . . Yale's reputation is universally known and recognized. The opinions of all who have had any dealings with her are identical, and we are sorry that it is not better. . . . The attempt to lay everything to the fact of playing with fifteen instead of eleven is decidedly weak. It seems queer that it happens only when the Yale fifteen are concerned. It does not lie in the number, but in the men themselves. It requires only a little common-sense to see this. Eleven men could make the game fully as unpleasant as fifteen. We need only quote the words of a Yale player, to show the animus. By way of apology, he said 'that he acknowledged that he played a low, dirty, mean game, and had always done so, and he believed that he played a dirtier, lower, meaner game than any man in the United States.' This grovelling explanation is sufficient. Its honesty is to be commended. In view of the facts, Harvard's suggestion is worthy of consideration, that Yale be left out until she learns to play respectably."