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Shawmut of Yale by two lengths. A re- The Englishmen introduced a novelty in gatta in which Harvard was again victori- the wearing of uniforms, consisting of white ous was held at Springfield in 1855, and flannel jackets and trousers trimmed with from 1858 to 1870 race-meets were held broad light-blue ribbon. In 1876 the Rugat Lake Quinsigamond, near Worcester. by rules were adopted, under which Yale, In most of these the Yale men were van- Harvard, and Princeton have ever since quished, but they generally helped their played with elevens, except in 1877 and conquerors to celebrate the occasion in a 1878, when Harvard insisted on playing manner which was the origin of the tradi- with fifteens. tions, long obsolete, that still find their way The public which cheers the skill or marinto the papers in accounts of the excesses vellous concert of an eleven knows nothing of football enthusiasts. The Bay State of the process out of which it has come, House was the scene of rejoicing, and after tried as by fire, the real effort of the college all convivial spirits had been whipped into as a whole ; knows nothing of the longing its net the doors were locked against es- of the man on the sidelines who has given cape and the proprietor had to deduct from his best toil for three months, perhaps the profit on his wine account the cost of for as many years, and finds his only rebroken crockery and demolished furniture. ward in carrying his rival's sweater during
In 1872 and 1873 the races were rowed the great game. The little band of substiat Springfield, and in 1874 and 1875 at tutes who make up the second eleven and Saratoga, under the auspices of the Rowing who are driven back day after day in Association of American Colleges, and practice, doggedly resisting every inch of were won successively by Amherst, Yale, trampled ground, receive no pæans from Columbia, and Cornell. In 1876 Harvard the thousands at Manhattan Field or and Yale rowed again at Springfield, and Springfield. Is one of them hurt in pracever since that year, save for the interreg- tice—“Ah, yes, hard luck, but he couldn't num which is now so happily ending, the have made the team anyhow;" and perbanks of Thames have echoed to the im- haps not the least of trials is the indifferent precations of the brazen-lunged little cox- encouragement of a coach, when blame swains. The life at quarters for the four would imply potentiality worth disciplinweeks preceding the race is a serene exist- ing. The college, which stands about ence removed from all clamor or utilitarian under the cold November sky and measaffairs and devoted to out-of-doors and the ures out impartial criticism at the Field, apotheosis of youth, health, and strength. may praise their efforts, but it is always as Although there are long conferences and efforts, never as results, and no reverent debates on rowing matters, the primal posterity can ever honor them as “the forces are dominant and match the wide tackle of '84" or “the man who kicked simplicity of sky and river. The sweating the goal from the forty-five yard line." fierceness of four-mile trials, the sharp They represent unselfish loyalty, striving bursts of practice speed with each man in full consciousness that the heights of marking the catch with voice and oar, the fame lie above their climbing, but bringing savage cries of the coach and the evening to the struggle all the enthusiasm, all the tingle of stretching muscles bring a man to devotion, all the persevering courage which the realization of the elements of his nature. are the true spirit of Yale.
The era of modern football at Yale was There is no mention in these pages of inaugurated in 1872 by a game with Co- the organization of the University, or its lumbia under association rules with twen- development and progress under President ty men on a side. A thrilling match was Dwight ; nothing of the Sheffield Scienplayed in the next year with an eleven of tific School, whose growth has doubled old Etonians, most of them in the British the number of undergraduates, of the Didiplomatic service. The Englishmen were vinity, Law, and Medical Schools, of the more adept, but the exchange of interna- material expansion of the college, or of tional hospitalities had not improved their commodious and elaborately equipped “condition," and the Yale team carried the buildings. These are but random and day by a score of three goals to two in an incomplete allusions, jetsam of the stream exciting game which lasted until after dark. of college life and history, and there is in
them no effort to order the factors of the know how ethereal and intangible is the complex whole. Some glimpses of the life spirit of their Alma Mater ; to all others of the college have been here suggested knowledge can come, not by study, but by as one can sometimes learn more of the inspiration. inhabitants of a distant country from a
Still less to be desired is the trumpeting song or a story than by the aid of a Baede- of virtues. The names of the famous sons ker; but curriculums, professional schools, of Yale are in the catalogue of graduates or athletic records have no graphic force. for the curious to see. Her learning has Most college graduates, men who have been garnered into books, and the love of felt the spring in their blood, and tasted her offspring has been builded into bronze the subtle sweetness of college days— and stone. But the origin itself of that
love, the devotion of the sons, the wisdom
of the kindly mother," are things too fine, Days that few swiftly, like the band
That in the Grecian games had strife too spiritual for deliberate exposition. And passed from eager hand to hand There is no master-word by which they The onward-dancing torch of life
can be unveiled to stranger eyes.
A REJECTED TITIAN
By Robert Herrick
I used up
OHN,” my wife remarked in horri- “There's nothing else to do. fied tones, “ he's coming to Rome!” all my ambiguous terms over that daub he
“Who is coming to Rome — the bought in the Piazza di Spagna— reminisEmperor?"
cential' of half a dozen worthless things, “ Uncle Ezra—see,” she handed me 'suggestive,' etc. I can't work them over the telegram. “ Shall arrive in Rome again.” Watkins was lugubrious. Wednesday morning ; have Watkins at “ Tell him the truth as straight as you the Grand Hotel.”
can; it's the best medicine." I was Uncle I handed the dispatch to Watkins. Ezra's heir ; naturally I felt for the inherit“ Poor uncle !” my wife remarked.
"He will get it in the neck," I added, Well," my wife was invariably cheerprofanely.
ful,“ perhaps he has found something valu“ They ought to put nice old gentlemen able ; at least, one of them may be ; isn't like your uncle in bond when they reach it possible?” Italy," Watkins mused, as if bored in ad- Watkins looked at my wife, indulgently. vance. “The antichitàs get after them, like “ He's been writing me about them for a -like confidence-men in an American city, month, suggesting that as I was about to go and the same old story is the result ; they on to Venice, he would like to have me see find, in some mysterious fashion, a won- them ; such treasures as I should find them. derful Titian, a forgotten Giorgione, cheap I have been waiting until he should get out. at cinque mille lire. Then it's all up with It isn't a nice job, and your uncle_." them. His pictures are probably decalco- There are three of them, Aunt Mary manias, you know, just colored prints past- writes: Cousin Maud has bought one, with ed over board. Why, we know every pict- the advice of Uncle Ezra and Professor ure in Venice; it's simply impossible —” Augustus Painter, and Painter himself is the
Watkins was a connoisseur : he had last one to succumb.” bought his knowledge in the dearest school • They have all gone mad,” Watkins of experience.
murmured. “What are you going to do, Mr. Wat- • Where did Maudie get the cash? ” I kins?" my wife put in. “ Tell him the asked. truth?”
"She had a special gift on coming of age,
and she has been looking about for an op- and don't care anyway who did them, and portunity for throwing it away”—my wife are having all this spiritual love-feast, what had never sympathized with my cousin in the world do they want any expert advice Maud Vantweekle. “She had better save upon their text for? Now for such people it for her trousseau, if she goes on much to buy pictures, when they haven't a mint of more with that young Professor. Aunt money! Why don't they buy something Mary should look after her.”
within their means really fine-a coin, a Watkins rose to go.
Van Dyck print? I could get your uncle a
This was Watkins's hobby.
Oh, well, it won't be bad in the end of would arrive in Venice before we break up the hall at New York ; it's as dark as pitch our charming home here. Mary has writ- there; and then Uncle Ezra can leave it to ten you that Professor Painter has joined us the Metropolitan as a Giorgione. It will at the Palazzo Palladio, complementing our give the critics something to do. And I needs and completing our circle. He has suppose that in coming on here he has in an excellent influence for seriousness upon mind to get an indorsement for his picture Maud; his fine, manly qualities have come that will give it a commercial value. He's out. Venice, after two years of Berlin, has canny, is my Uncle Ezra, and he likes to opened his soul in a really remarkable man- gamble, too, like the rest of us. If he should ner. All the beauty lying loose around here draw a prize, it wouldn't be a bad thing to has been a revelation to him
“ Maud's beauty,” my wife interpreted. Watkins called again the next morning.
“And our treasures you will enjoy so Have you seen Uncle Ezra ?” my much—such dashes of color, such great wife asked, anxiously. slaps of light ! I was the first to buy—they • No. Three telegrams. Train was decall it a Savoldo, but I think no third-rate layed—I suppose by the importance of man could be capable of so much—such the works of art it's bringing on." reaching out after infinity. However, that “When do you expect him?" makes little difference. I would not part
“ About noon." with it, now that I have lived these weeks “ Mr. Watkins," my wife flamed out, “I with so fine a thing. Maud won a prize in believe you are just shirking it, to meet that her Bonifazio, which she bought under my poor old man with his pictures. You ought advice. Then Augustus secured the third to have been at the station, or at least at one, a Bissola, and it has had the greatest the hotel. Why, it's twelve now !” influence upon him already ; it has given Watkins hung his head. him his education in art. He sits with it by “I believe you are a coward,” my wife the hour while he is at work, and its charm went on. “ Just think of his arriving there, has gradually produced a revolution in all excitement over his pictures, and findhis character. We had always found ing you gone!” him too Germanic, and he had immured “Well, well,” I said, soothingly, “it's no himself in that barbarous country for so use to trot off now, Watkins; stay to breaklong over his Semitic books that his nature fast. He will be in shortly. When he was stunted on one side. His picture has finds you are out at the hotel he will come opened a new world for him. Your Aunt straight on here, I am willing to bet." Mary and I already see the difference in his Watkins looked relieved at my suggescharacter; he is gentler, less narrowly inter- tion. ested in the world. This precious bit of fine “ I believe you meant to run away all art has been worth its price many times, but along," my wife continued, severely, “ and I don't think Augustus would part with it to come here for refuge." for any consideration now that he has lived Watkins sulked. with it and learned to know its power.'” “ Damn the pictures and their influ
"I can't see why he is coming to Rome," ence,” I said. Watkins commented at the end.
“ If they
Wewaited in suspense, straining our ears are confident that they know all about it, to hear the sound of a cab stopping in the
street. At last one did pull up. My wife thinks Painter's picture and Maud's are made no pretence of indifference, but hur- copies, Painter's done a few years ago and ried to the window.
Maud's a little older, the last century. My " It's Uncle Ezra with a big, black bun- Savoldo he finds older, but repainted. You dle. John, run down- No! there's a said cinque cento, Mr. Watkins ?” facchino."
“ Perhaps, Mr. Williams,” Watkins anWe looked at each other and laughed. swered, and added, much as a dog would “ The three !”
give a final shake to the bird, “ Much reOur patron of art came in, with a warm, painted, hardly anything left of the origigentle smile, his tall, thin figure a little bent nal. There may be a Savoldo underneath, with the fatigue of the journey, his beard but you don't see it.” Watkins smiled at a little grayer and dustier than usual, and us knowingly. My wife snubbed him. his hands all a-tremble with nervous impa- “Of course, Uncle Ezra, that's one tience and excitement. He had never been man's opinion. I certainly should not put as tremulous before an opinion from the Su much faith in one critic, no matter how preme Court. My wife began to purr over eminent he may be. Just look at the guidehim soothingly; Watkins looked sheepish; books and see how the “authorities' swear I hurried them all off to breakfast.
at one another.
Ruskin says every man The omelette was not half done before is a fool who can't appreciate his particuUncle Ezra jumped up, and began unstrap- lar love, and Burckhardt calls it a daub, ping the oil-cloth covering to the pictures. and Eastlake insipid. Now there are a There was consternation at the table. My set of young fellows who think they know wife endeavored soothingly to bring Uncle all about paint and who painted what. Ezra's interest back to breakfast, but he They're renaming all the great masterwas not to be fooled. My Uncle Ezra was pieces. Pretty soon they will discover that a courageous man.
some tenth-rate fellow painted the Sistine “Of course you fellows,” he said, smil- Chapel.” ing at Watkins, in his suave fashion,
Watkins put on an aggrieved and exjust whetting your knives for me, I know. postulatory manner. Uncle Ezra cut in. That's right. I want to know the worst, “Oh! my dear! Mr. Watkins may be the hardest things you can say. You can't right, quite right. It's his business to know, destroy the intrinsic worth of the pictures I am sure, and I anticipated all that he for us; I have lived with mine too long, would say ; indeed, I have come off rather and know how precious it is !”
better than I expected. There is old paint At last the three pictures were tipped up in it somewhere." against the wall, and the Madonnas and “ Pretty far down,” Watkins muttered. saints in gold, red, and blue were beaming My wife bristled up, but Uncle Ezra asout insipidly at us. Uncle Ezra affected sumed his most superb calm. indifference. Watkins continued with the “ It makes no difference to me, of omelette. “We'll look them over after course, as far as the worth of the work of breakfast,” he said, severely, thus getting art is concerned. I made up my mind beus out of the hole temporarily.
fore I came here that my picture was worth After breakfast my wife cooked up some a great deal to me, much more than I paid engagement, and hurried me off. We left for it." There was a heroic gasp. WatUncle Ezra in the hands of the physician. kins interposed mercilessly, “ And may I Two hours later, when we entered, the op- ask, Mr. Williams, what you did give for eration had been performed—we could it ?” see at a glance--and in a bloody fashion. Uncle Ezra was an honest man. “ TwenThe pictures were lying about the vast room ty-five hundred lire,” he replied, sullenly. as if they had been spat at. Uncle Ezra Excuse me ” (Watkins was behaving smiled wanly at us with the courage of the like a pitiless cad), “ but you paid a great patient who is a sceptic about physicians. deal too much for it, I assure you. I
"Just what I expected," he said, briskly, could have got it for—" to relieve Watkins, who was smoking, with “ Mr. Watkins,"my wife was hardly civil the air of a man who has finished his job to him, “it doesn't matter much what you and is now cooling off. “Mr. Watkins could have got it for."
No," Uncle Ezra went on bravely, “I sance. He's the coming young critic in am a little troubled as to what this may art, has made a wonderful reputation the mean to Maud and Professor Painter, for last three years, is on the Beaux Arts staff, you see their pictures are copies.” and really knows. He is living out at
Undoubted modern copies,” the un- Frascati. I could telegraph and have him quenchable Watkins emended.
here this afternoon, perhaps.” “ Maud has learned a great deal from Well, I don't know ; his tone, howher picture. And as for Painter, it has ever, said “Yes.” “I don't care much for been an education in art, an education in expert advice—for specialists. But it life. He said to me the night before I wouldn't do any harm to hear what he came away, Mr. Williams, I wouldn't take has to say. And Maud and Painter have two thousand for that picture : it's been made up their minds that Maud's is a the greatest influence in my life.'”
Titian." I thought Watkins would have convul- So I ran out and sent off the dispatch. sions.
My wife took Uncle Ezra down to the
Maud's ruby-colored prize.
My wife gave a decided hint to Wat- Titian's picture, No. 3,405, in the Nation. kins that his presence in such a family al Gallery at London. There is a replica scene was awkward. He took his hat and in the Villa Ludovisi here at Rome. It's cane. Uncle Ezra rose and grasped him a stupid copy, some alterations, all for the cordially by the hand.
bad—worthless—well, not to the antichità, “ You have been very generous, Mr. for it must be 1550, I should say. But Watkins,” he said, in his own sweet way, worthless for us and in bad condition. I “ to do such an unpleasant job. It's a wouldn't give cinque lire for it.” large draft to make on the kindness of a “ And the Bissola ?" I said. "Oh, friend.”
that was done in the seventeenth century " Oh, don't mention it, Mr. Williams ; it would make good kindling. But this,” and if you want to buy something really he turned away from Painter's picture with fine, a Van Dyck print-a
a gesture of contempt, “ this is Domenico Uncle Ezra was shooing him toward the Tintoretto fast enough, at least what hasn't door. From the stairs we could still hear been stippled over and painted out. St. his voice. " Or a Whistler etching for Agnes's leg here is entire, and that tree in twenty-five pounds, I could get you, now, the background is original. A damned bad
man, but there are traces of his slop work. No, thank you, Mr. Watkins," Uncle Perhaps the hair is by him, too. Well, Ezra said, firmly. “I don't believe I have good-by, old fellow, I must be off to dinany money just now for such an invest- ner.” ment."
That was slight consolation : a leg, a My wife tiptoed about the room, mak- tree, and some wisps of hair in a picture ing faces at the exposed masterpieces. three feet six by four feet eight. Our din“ What shall we do ?” Uncle Ezra came ner that evening was labored. The next back into the room, his face a trifle grayer morning Uncle Ezra packed his three treasand more worn. Capital fellow, that ures tenderly, putting in cotton-wool at the Watkins," he said, “ so firm and frank.” edges, my wife helping him to make them
Uncle," I ventured at random, I met comfortable. We urged him to stay over Flügel the other day in the street. You with us for a few days; we would all go on know Flügel's new book on the Renais- later to Venice. But Uncle Ezra seemed
a very fine