PERADVENTURE, A LANCELET.
r
r HE Critic sat at his desk, reading the latest exchanges.
The Christmas vacation had come and gone; and
with the opening of a new term, he had returned
from his round of festivities to find his desk piled high with
papers, and the time for the issue of the next LANCE close at
hand. It was, therefore, with a due sense of duty that he
began his task on this pleasant Winter afternoon.
It had seemed to him a wearisome task, and he began
reluctantly. But after reading a few pages carelessly and
automatically, he forgot his listlessness and became inter
ested. Surely it seemed to him that college men can write
if they try, and sonic of them had evidently tried. The
more he read, the more interested he became. At last he
grew so absorbed that his own imagination began to act;
and laying the papers aside lie began dreaming a day-dream
story; and dreaming thus, he slept.
Did some one speak to him? It seemed to Win that he
beard voices, and he strained his ear to listen. Yes, some
one was speaking; and he recognized the voice of Shears.
"By the way" he was saying, "I hear that the readers
of the LANCE were pleased with the revival of the exchange
departrfient."
"Yes, so I hear," replied Pastelist.
how they like the other changes."
.‘The other changes?" queried Pen. ."Why, one Alum
nus of whom I know wrote that he 'greatly enjoyed those
little sketches of college life, as they go a great ways toward
recalling the olden days, the golden days.' "
“But I wonder