Yesterday the first revolutions of the cumbrous wheels of the college machine made us aware that a new, and for many of us the final, year of student life had begun. To-day the mill is in full swing, busily engaged in the task of grinding out its annual grist of A. B.'s. The clang of the prayer bell, followed by the rush of tardy footsteps over the crunching gravel, reminds us that prayers, like the poor, "we have always with us." The genial face of John, that unique example of Catholic "Orangeman:" the thought-furrowed brow of General Pratt: the "eggs and toast" of the Holly Tree: and the nocturnal journeys to that Paradise whence Adam has not yet been expelled, and at whose gates no flaming sword checks the wanderer, save, it may be, that metaphorical cutlass, the "11 o'clock law," - each and all of these we greet with renewed respect and affection, and then look about us to ascertain the cause for the slight feeling of vacuity that we, as a student body, experience. One thing, - one little thing we lack to make our surroundings complete!

We shan't lack it after Monday next. The freshmen are due then.