Editor's Table.

All's well that ends well.-Shak.

Better late than never.-Old Saro.

EDITORIAL SANCTUM, 12 O'CLOCK, MIDNIGHT.

KIND () Gentle (?) Considerate (?) Reader! Apology? No! Thou takest us by the beard; we take thee by the button-hole! Soft! Aside! A word in thine ear!

The Printer is frantic! We shudder to confront him! His reproachful glances haunt us in our dreams! We have long tried to shun him, and had it not been for the regard we bear to thee, we should have cut his acquaintance forever; but the constraint of duty has overcome our shrinking terror, and we have become bold, yea, brazen, in thy behalf! But, pray! what mean those eight ghastly blanks on our books, prefixed with ? There! we almost

uttered thy name! Surely, there was no mistake, we came by it honestly, even by thy consent! Hast forgotten? Are times hard? Oh! think of the Printer! Think of the Editor! Verb. Sap. Sat.

Sanctum! This reminds us of a sacrilegious tirade, in a recent exchange, against the consecrated accessories of our profession, wherein the “Sanctum,” "Easy Chair," "Drawer," "Franklin Stove," aye, "DEVIL," are set down in a vulgar category of Editorial Humbugs! No 'Sanctum!' Shades of the Vandals! we had hoped for more humane treatment from our associates in misery! Invade, in thy desperation, the sanctity of our private abode! Oh, by what refinement of torture must such evidence of depravity have been extorted! Out on such desecration !

Tantæne animis cœlestibus irae?

No Easy Chair!' Poor outcast! In the name of Diogenes, the Cynic, throw up thy commission and seek a berth where thy teeming ills shall at least be forgotten in the soothing luxury of a quiet Arm Chair, and thy heart be solaced by the more rational sentiment

"I love it! I love it! and who shall dare

To chide me for loving that old arm chair ?"

We have our Sanctum, and our Easy Chair, thank our stars! We have our Drawer, which serves both as a cradle and coffin for our thick-coming (?) contributions! We have our Franklin Stove, with all its accompaniments, and even now its flickering blaze lights up the chambers of our imagination, with the cheering associations of many a half-forgotten reverie! We have, finally, our Devil, or rather, Confusion take him! he has us, and were his stealthy tread less expected, we should breathe freer! Nay, further, we have suspended in one corner of our Sanctum, a long pipe, albeit we don't smoke; we keep it for the poetry of the thing! We have a social round table, a jaunty little cap, an old grey goose quill, with all their poetic associations, and withered be the hand that would detract the tithe of a hair from their refreshing romance! Recant! Recant! misguided Reformer! Seek more propitious surroundings, or lay aside the pen forever.

We had anticipated a long and cosy chat with our friends, but it is only by dint of the utmost exertion that we can reserve space sufficient to make off with

a becoming show of formality, for we have a saddening word to speak ere we make our final bow. Our successors are appointed, and we are soon to commit our charge, we hope, to worthier hands, and while we doff our official robe, we are reminded of our proximity to that sadder leave-taking, whose chastening shadow begins to mellow the sunlight of our enjoyment. The matter of writing autographs which this occasion brings to our Senior friends, we think worthy of a passing note. We have an inveterate repugnance to collecting autographs for their own sake, and when we see an amateur autograph-collector, always think of the sage counsel of a distinguished cotemporary to an aspiring youth, who was making extensive application for the marks of great men, which was that "he bad better be trying to make his own mark." But there seems to be a peculiar propriety in the exchange of such a simple memento by classmates, to whom, in the stern conflicts of life, the memory of college days will be a talisman of consolation and success. We hope that the mere stereotype generality, "Your friend and classmate," which seems to have gained currency from the erroneous impression that nothing farther could properly be written to a classmate unless compliment and flattery,—which, in some cases, many are too honest to do, -will not prevail. No two classmates in college, have spent four years together, or even half that period, without having some personal reminiscences, or at least, some topic of interest in common, on which it will be pleasant to dwell in after life. May our parting words be suggestive as well as heart-felt.

The steel engravings which are to accompany these Autographs, are the subject of universal remark, whereat our vanity has been somewhat flattered. They are pronounced beautiful pictures, and all acknowledge that they are accurate likenesses. What's the inference? We submit the case to '58, and the ladies. Apropos to this subject, we take pleasure in calling the attention of our readers to an excellent view of Yale College, proofs of which have been forwarded to our Publisher, Mr. Pease, by whom it will soon be issued. We cannot in this connection forbear a word in relation to the old custom which we have revived in our present number by embellishing it with a portrait. On the covers of an early Volume of this Magazine, we find the following announcement: "Each volume will be enriched with one or more portraits of individuals distinguished in the annals of our Alma Mater." This plan, if we mistake not, was kept up faithfully from Volume IV, containing President Day, to Volume XII, containing President Woolsey, after which, for some unknown cause, it was unfortunately suffered to fall into disuse. In reëstab*lishing this desirable custom, we are sure of the approbation of our patrons in presenting them with the portrait of one so universally beloved and revered as Professor Goodrich.

Now then, clearing a little round spot on our table, and drawing up within arm's length of our open Franklin, we have a confidential word to say

TO CONTRIBUTORS.-We always approach this department with reluctance, lest we may sometimes say hard things, and thus identify ourselves with that class of petty scribblers with which College ground is infested, who are ever ready to dip their pen in gall to give pith to their otherwise insipid productions. We have before us an unprecedented quantity and variety of matter which may have rendered us somewhat fastidious.

“The great Men of Yale" was written with care, and, no doubt, a praiseworthy motive, but it is more of a Statement-of-Facts document than a Magazine Article. It is returned with our compliments.

"Only a Dream" is on file for further examination.

We have been favored with a poetic effusion, "Written expressly for the Yale Literary Magazine," by " Altius." It is entitled "The Soul's Summer,” of which we will treat our readers to a single couplet. The author seems to be! describing the approach of Winter, and proceeds in this strain sublime:"

"His feathers scarce protect the cock from cold,

The brooding

We expected, in this connection, to be next introduced to the bustling matron of the poultry yard, but imagine our chagrin on merely learning that

"The brooding Cow (!) roams bounteous meads no more."

"Castles in the Air," and "A Visit to Jerusalem and the Dead Sea," for want of room we have transferred to our successor.

A Sentimental Ditty, by "S.," entitled "True Knowledge," betrays quite s susceptible nature, and that in very dainty terms.

I know a sparkling eye,
How quick it is to spy,

Yes! much quicker e'en than I,

What I'd have

Twinkling like a star in heaven,
Veiled in sadness it was given,
As a talisman 'twas given,
Me to save-

Well I prize, (all eyes above,)

This dear eye of her I love.

Hear him!

I know a little lip;

How sweet it is to sip
From off that crimson lip,
Kisses sweet-

It returns them without grief,
Blushing, (as a maple-leaf
When its life-time now is brief,)
Mine to meet-

Well I prize, (all lips above,)
This dear lip of her I love.

defer "The Outlook," till our

We regret the necessity which compels us to next issue. All who have listened to the gentle May Whispers" in this Number-and who has not?-will also regret that "Place de la Concorde," from the same pen, was crowded out. It shall appear in our next Number.

The usual Exchanges are on our table, to which we are happy to add a new Magazine called The Collegiate Record," conducted by the Students of Western Reserve; also, "The Denisonian," from Granville, Ohio. Success attend them!

While on a recent visit to Webster School, we were presented by the courte ous and obliging Principal, Mr. Kimball, with the first number of a spicy little sheet, called "The Portfolio," conducted entirely by the pupils. We are highly gratified at such a token of youthful enterprise, and shall watch its progress with interest.

Our impulsive brother-Editor, who presided over our last issue, meekly requests us to make in his behalf a correction, he probably meant confession. though out of regard to his tenderness of feeling, we refrained from questioning him. The case is this. In his rash haste to affix the stigma of Laziness to his unsuspecting confrerès, he inadvertently omitted the name of Louis H BRISTOL, from the High Orations, in the list of Junior Appointments. In view of his manifest contrition, we hope our Junior friend will pardon our misguided and erring associate, as we have long since done from the fullness of our heart