About seven o'clock Saturday evening the freshmen began to assemble in great numbers in and around the quadrangle to celebrate their tug-of-war victory. The overture of the improvised orchestra, composed of fishhorns, policeman's rattles, cow bells, etc., lasted for a half hour or more. After they could shout no longer by reason of hoarseness and loss of wind caused by the blowing of their infernal horns, the freshmen began to raid grocers' back-yards for fuel for a bonfire. A hugh pile was soon collected in front of University, and quickly kindled. As soon, however, as the wood was fairly burning, the nightwatchman appeared on the scene with buckets of water and nearly extinguished the fire. but eighty-eight, nothing daunted, poured on kerosene, and, when the watchman returned to the basement of University to fill his buckets, locked him in. Masters of the field, they now began to feed the fire with barrels, stuffed with shavings and paper saturated with kerosene, cart wheels, filched from a neighboring wheel wright's shop, front gates, fence rails, and in fact anything they could lay their hands on. The fool-hardiness of some who poured on kerosene from tin cans, which the flames almost seemed to envelop was extraordinary; it is only a wonder that the bon-fire had not served as a funeral pile for these rash youths. Balch, the anchor of the tug-of-war team, was the hero of the hour; again and again he was carried around the fire on the shoulders of his exultant classmen. The presence of the army of proctors and their redoubtable general was the only thing needed to add zest to the whole affair. It was doubtless the failure of his part of the programme which caused the early breaking up of the demonstration; for by half-past nine only the glowing embers of the fire remains, and an occasional lone tute of a fish horn was the only sound to break the silence.