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...love-making will seem peculiar, even to readers of Miss Broughton. Take this for example, - start not, nervous reader; they are to be married in a few pages...
...orator, Miss Margaret Tippet, a lady whose massive brow was partly shaded by a halo of auburn curls, and who wore a dark gray polonaise trimmed with Valenciennes lace was loudly applauded on rising to deliver her oration. As this was in Greek, we have tried to translate it as literally as possible, although feeling how incompetent we are to reproduce the sparkling freshness of the original. The speaker began by alluding to the many victories which the class of '79 had won. "When we first entered these classic porticos," (she said), "it had been the custom...
After about fifteen minutes, when the applause which burst forth spontaneously at this brilliant sally, had somewhat abated, Miss Rosamond Mortimer, the poet, was escorted on to the stage. Her appearance was in every respect romantic. Her profile was of the purest Grecian type, excepting her nose, which, being a little retrousse, added marvellously to the deep sentiment written plainly in her other features. There was a plaintive dulcet tone to her voice that thrilled the heart of every hearer, as completely as - as - as the squeaking of bad chalk does in a recitation-room. Her poem, "On the Beauty...
...unexpected was the call on the handkerchiefs and sensibilities of the audience, that none of the following disquisitions met with the appreciation they deserved. We recall, however, with pleasure, the interesting facts brought forward by Miss Dorothy Simper, in her historical essay on the "Rise and Progress of Flirting...
...WHEN you were a Freshman, did you make a fool of yourself?" asked a hopeful young friend who feels sure of getting into college, this his fourth time; this was in the new Gymnasium on Class Day. "Some five thousand times," I replied impressively, rushing off to Miss -- of Albany (Albany's population is, surely, chiefly pretty young ladies). The young wretch, after gorging himself with all the salads, rushed at me as I returned pensively from the Alban charms with the comprehensive interrogation, "How?" But I can't spend from now even until after the bed-hour of Beck...