STUDY WINDOW.
SEC.4. Those who desire to enter the local debates shall register with the Secretary and Treasurer of the Association before six o'clock p.m. on the tenth day of October of each year, unless such date falls upon Sunday, in which case the same conditions shall apply to the following Monday.
SEC.5. Those who register for the debate shall be divided into classes by lot, no class to contain more than eight debaters Lots shall be drawn before six o'clock on the day after the registration is completed.
SEC. 6. The first series of preliminary debates shall be completed before the fifteenth day of November of each year, and the final debate at which the speakers to represent the University are chosen shall be held not later than the first day of December of each year.
STUDY WINDOW.
The Editor awoke the next morning with an acheing head, and an intense desire to escape from the oppressive position in which he had voluntarily placed himself. After his experience of the night before, all the words he had written as Editor of the Chromo surged to his brain. The fervor that had first accompanied them had changed to burning heat. Escape! escape!
About noon of the same day, the sub-editors of the Chromo received a message stating that the Editor had left town for an indefinite period, and that the management of the Chromo was left in their hands.
In time to come, perhaps, the little city of Louville will have reached the acme of perfection, and have passed thence into rapid decay. Nothing but the ruins of these quondam earthly paradises will remain to boast its glory, since all that is of earth must perish. It is then some future historian will come to stir up the debris of the fallen city, in search of the archives of the noble people who created it. Then, perhaps, among other civil records will be found, carefully filed, the old numbers of the Chromo. These the future historian will seize with an antiquarious greed, and seat himself near the ruined Study Widnow, which, though crushed by the weight of fallen beams, will
still retain its lustre, and gleam and glisten in the sunlight. Through the contents of the Chromo the future historian will try to trace the life of the Editor. Doubtless many important facts will be gleaned therefrom, and much of interest in the development of his character will be found therein. But the Editor's vision, that stepping stone by which he rose from the ground of narrow egotism to the higher plane of self-forget fulness, will ever remain unknown to future generations, well guarded within the precincts of his soul.
The Editor's vision came to him as he sat in his study, greatly troubled by an unpleasant train of thought. It was first that of a happy child now running over a large well-kept yard in quest of butterflies, or some imaginary object, now flat upon his back in the soft grass, watching the fleeting clouds, and building air castles as they passed. Then came the boy at school, of too delicate a constitution to enjoy the wild games in which most boys delight, and too carefully cherished by an over-anxious mother to explore the world very much: hence books were the main source of his interest. The college days were much the same, characterized by an earnest devotion to study. It had been a lonely life, although the Editor never realized it until now. Shut up within himself, he had been following a narrow trend of thought until he had, or thought he had evolved the principle of human happiness. Was it not, through a beautiful ray that had lighted his path? Yes, but this world is lit by a million such rays. It is like the chance sunbeam that strays through a crevice into some dark corner; its presence is distinctly perceived: but only when joined to other sunbeams can it spread its influence far and near. Enlarge the crevice, O. Editor! and let the day-light in!
The room suddenly was filled with a flood of ligh; the Editor was dazzled by its brightness. The narrow ray that connected the objective beauty of nature, with his own subjective feeling of goodness, and had hitherto been his guilding light, was merged in the general brightness: it could no longer be distinctly felt.