old women called "goodies," who also do the chamber-work every morning. Many students have servants to go on errands, clean shoes, and fetch water, for the chamber-maids do not put water in the pitchers. The professors sometimes come around the rooms to see that all is well. I have a room to myself, No. 6, Stoughton, on the second floor, neatly papered, for which I pay $24 a year. I bought an open stove for $6, a bedstead, a maple table, a looking-glass, a yellow wash-stand, and two chairs, -cost of all $18. Some of the richer students have splendid furniture, sofas, large mirrors, secretaries, rich carpets, &c. I have been up about an hour. I have a black fellow who makes my fire about five o'clock. I then get up and look over my lesson so as to recite it, which is done as soon as one can see to read. We attend prayers as soon as the President can see to read in a very large print Bible. It is no uncommon thing to see students fall asleep; the seats, being not unlike the pews of a church, are well calculated for it. On September 26, we had finished Hedge's Logic, and were examined in it in presence of a committee. We next took up Paley's Moral Philosophy, reciting ten pages (as near verbatim as possible) at a lesson. Our compositions we hand in to Professor Channing at his study in the HENRY ONDERDONK, JR. rear of his residence, and he makes the merit mark on the margin. Your affectionate brother, CAMBRIDGE, Oct. 22, 1826. DEAR BROTHER, On Tuesday last there was an exhibition in the College, consisting of orations, dialogues, &c., in English, Latin, and Greek. The exercises were performed in the chapel, and attended by many ladies. It is a day of general festivity among the students and officers of the College. The speakers generally keep a free table, that is, give an entertainment to their classmates. As most of the speakers were from our class, I had several invitations. In those rooms that I visited the tables groaned under the refreshments and bottles of wine, brandy, and punch. Many felt the effects of their revelry. At dinner, they did little else than roar and sing obstreperously. The dinnerhall was a scene of confusion, noise, and good humor. It is the only day when the dishes are not emptied. The wine and cake (the last of which was of the best kind) had completely taken away their appetite. The afternoon was spent in riotous conduct. There is always a tutor in each entry of the students' rooms, who lives there to preserve order; but this day they were at a dinner given by the government of the College, otherwise better behavior would have been observed. These excesses seldom happen. Not more than two students are allowed to stand together in the College yard to talk. Half past six A. M. Now the bell is ringing for prayers, and I must go. What a scampering there will be among tardy ones! Your affectionate brother, HENRY ONDERDONK, JR. HOW THE PROFESSOR PROPOSED. The difficulty of proposing to the young lady is not always the most serious one the suitor has to encounter. Popping the question to one's prospective mother-in-law or "asking papa" is frequently the more arduous undertaking of the two. When Professor Aytoun was wooing Miss Wilson, daughter of Professor Wilson, the famous "Christopher North," he obtained the lady's consent conditionally upon that of her father's being secured. This Aytoun was much too shy to ask, and he prevailed upon the young lady herself to conduct the necessary negotiations. "We must deal gently with his feelings," said glorious old Christopher. reply on a slip of paper, and pin it to the back of your frock." "Papa's answer is on the back of my dress," said Miss Jane, as she entered the drawing-room. Turning her round the delighted Professor read these words: "With the author's compliments." "I'll write my Your back 's all covered with leaves and drove up, and several coming in, the gentle moss How he laughs, good-natured fellow! Bad luck fishing makes most men cross. man asked, "Does the stage dine here?" "No, sir," replied the girl in a sarcastic tone, "but the passengers do." THE DUCHESS'S WATCH. WHEN Victoria was about thirty years younger than she is now, she was inclined to be very exact in the way of business, and, more especially, in the way of promptness to appointed times and places. Seven years a queen, four years a wife, and three years a mother, she felt probably a more weighty dignity resting upon her than she has felt since. And yet no crust of dignity or royal station could ever entirely shut out her innate goodness of heart. Many Americans remember well the duchess of Sutherland, whose hospitable doors were always open to the worthy; and from one who enjoyed her friendship, I heard the following anecdote, told by the duchess herself. At the time of which we speak, the duchess of Sutherland held the office of mistress of the robes to the British queen, and on public occasions her position was very near to the royal person, and deemed of great importance. A day, and an hour, had been appointed for a certain public ceremony in which the queen was to take part. The hour had arrived, and of all the court the duchess alone was absent, and her absence retarded the departure. The queen gave vent more than once to her impatience, and at length, just as she was about to enter her carriage without her first lady of honor, the duchess, in breathless haste, made her appearance, stammering some faint words of excuse. "My dear duchess," said the queen, smiling, "I think you must have a bad watch;" and as she thus spoke she unloosed from her neck the chain of a magnificent watch which she herself wore, and passed it around the neck of Lady Sutherland. Though given as a present, the lesson conveyed with it made a deep and lively impression. The proud duchess changed color, and a tear which she could not repress fell upon her cheek. On the next day she tendered her resignation, but it was not accepted. LONGFELLOW'S RESIDENCE, CAMBRIDGE. BY CHARLES F. RICHARDSON. "in the family of one of the most distinguished men of the age, surrounded at his table by the principal officers of the army, and in constant intercourse with them. It was further my duty to receive company and do the honors of the house to many of the first people of the country." But Washington was thrifty and frugal personally; and his generous maintenance at his own cost of a sort of court was of great service to the colonial cause. The owners of the house after the Revolution were Nathaniel Tracy (whom Washington visited for an hour in 1789), Thomas Russell, and Dr. Andrew Craigie. Talleyrand and Lafayette slept in it, and in 1833 Jared Sparks commenced to keep house within its historic rooms. Everett, and Worcester the lexicographer, also occupied it for a time, and Mr. Longfellow took up his abode in it in 1837. At first he merely rented a room, establishing himself in Washington's southeast bed-chamber. Here he wrote "Hyperion" and "Voices of the Night." In the dwelling, in one room and another, almost all his books, save the two which date from his Bowdoin professorship, have been produced. Longfellow had not long been an occupant of the house before he bought it. Its timbers are perfectly sound. The lawn in front is neatly kept; and across the street there stretches a green meadow as far as the banks of the Charles, bought by the poet to preserve his view. Mr. Longfellow himself, as he draws near seventy, is a fine picture of beautiful manhood. It has been remarked by his friends that his health has much improved since he delivered his poem, "Morituri Salutamus," at the fiftieth anni FEW private houses in the United States are so well known as the residence of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, so often has it been described by affectionate antiquarians and enthusiastic pilgrims. It is not only the home of our most celebrated poet, it also surpasses in historic interest any building in New England, with the sole exception of Faneuil Hall. Its age, as compared with that of other Cambridge houses, is not great. It was built in 1759, by Colonel John Vassall, a firm loyalist, who fled to England, in 1775, his property in Cambridge and Boston having been confiscated. Its next occupant was Colonel John Glover, a bold little Marblehead soldier, who quartered some of his troops in the spacious structure. When Washington rode into Cambridge, on Sunday, June 2, 1775, he was greatly pleased with the appearance of the house, and having had it cleaned, he established himself therein during the same month. Martha Washington arrived at the house in December, and Washington remained in it till April of the following year. The southeast room on the first floor Washington took for his study, in which the councils of war were all held during the stay of the commander-inchief in Cambridge. He slept just overhead, always retiring at nine o'clock. The spacious room behind the study, which Mr. Longfellow now uses for his library, was occupied by Washington's military family, as a rule a pretty large one. A general's “military family,” in English parlance com-versary of his graduation. And all Camprised his whole staff. Washington was not averse to a certain amount of official splendor, and was luckily rich enough to carry out his whim in the matter of making his assistants a part of his ordinary household. Trumbull, the artist, complained rather sarcastically that he, for one, could not keep his head up in the magnificent society of the house. "I now found myself," he averred, bridge, down to coal-heavers and hod-carriers, reveres him for his benignity, and reveres him, not only as a poet, but as a kind and gentle man. - Harper's Magazine. WHY should n't one confide a secret to his relatives? Because blood will tell. A BYWAY TO HEALTH. [From Tinsley's Magazine.] "NOBODY ever repented of eating too little," was the sage remark of an old gentleman on the verge of ninety, next to whom the writer had the pleasure of sitting at dinner the other night. The host was pressing him to take more, and urging him in the usual phrase, "Why, you have eaten scarcely anything!" Now, it is to be assumed, that the old gentleman's words indicated one of the byways to good health along which he had travelled through his long life, and to which he owed his present remarkably hearty condition; so it was suggested to him interrogatively that he had always been a small feeder. "Yes," he answered, "ever since I was two or three and twenty. Up to that time I was a weakly fellow enough, and I used to make the great mistake of trying to eat and drink as much as I could, in the hope of becoming strong. All my friends and the doctors backed me in my error; but fortunately I found it out in time, and ‘knocked off' — as your modern slang has it more than half my usual amount of food and stimulants. I gave up the idea of making myself strong, and merely strove t make myself well, and so I was contented with eating just as much as I could digest, and no more. Of course it took a little time and experience to discover the precise limits. I could not adopt the golden rule of always leaving off with an appetite, because I never began with one; but by persistent erring on the right side I got hold of one of the great secrets of life, the secret of knowing when one has enough, and after a year or two I became so much better that I used to find myself keenly ready to eat at meal-time, and by degrees actually acquired an appetite. Then, once found, I never destroyed it, but always determinately rose with a feeling that I should like to eat more. Naturally the temptation for a while grew greater as my digestion grew stronger; but I was firm; I did not behave ungratefully to my stomach, |