The first number of the Advocate, with its contents of very varied degrees of merit, can hardly be called disappointing, for one does not expect consistent excellence in its contributions; yet one cannot help wishing that the prose in an opening number might have been such as to prepossess the reader more favorably toward the coming volume that a glance at the stories offered is likely to do. The editorials are a straight-forward setting forth of thoughts pertinent to the opening year--the reunion for the upper classmen, the new friendships and opportunities for the Freshmen--and are worth attention. But the rest of the prose, with one or two exceptions to be noted, may be passed over with a conscience clear of the thought that one is missing matters of value. These exceptions are, "The Gentle Art of Writing Poetry," by A. D. Ficke, and possibly the story entitled "A Guileless Youth," by H. M. Trieber. The former is good because, with its direct and easy style it elaborates a half grave, half humorous thought with something of the same charm that a good conversationalist may give to even a little topic. The latter is worthy of mention, because, though devoid of any especial skill in phrasing, it does draw a characterization that smacks of real human nature. It seems genuine, even if not altogether finished, and after all genuineness is what one most wants in stories for College periodicals. Even trivial incidents, if through their connection with our undergraduate experiences, they touch the springs of our natural interest, are likely to prove better subjects for a story than the love comedies already some-what over-familiar to Advocate readers. "The Cap of Misfortune," in the present number belongs to the latter category.

"The Gold Strike on Dutch Creek," and "Glotto's Crisis," are the remaining stories. The latter has bits of excellent description.

The poetry in the number, is on the whole, better than the prose. "Sunset," is exceedingly poor; but "Nocturne," has genuine lyrical beauty, and "Demeter," by A. D. Ficke, is musical and delicately fanciful, though it lacks the strong and sure command of suggestive striking similes, which are the marks of poetic imagination as distinguished from that poetic fancy which pleases, but does not stir, and lightly fascinates but does not compellingly more.