The college is a coy maid— She has a habit quaint Of making eyes at millionaires And winking at the taint. —Judge.

“What is a ‘faculty’?”

“A ‘faculty’ is a body of men surrounded by red tape.”—Cornell Widow.

Yale University is to have a ton of fossils. Whether for the faculty or for the museums is not announced.—The Atlanta Journal.

FIRST TRUSTEE—”But this ancient institution of learning will fail unless something is done.”

SECOND TRUSTEE—”True; but what can we do? We have already raised the tuition until it is almost 1 per cent of the fraternity fees.”—Puck.

The president of the university had dark circles under his eyes. His cheek was pallid; his lips were trembling; he wore a hunted expression.

“You look ill,” said his wife. “What is wrong, dear?”

“Nothing much,” he replied. “But—I—I had a fearful dream last night, and I feel this morning as if I—as if I—” It was evident that his nervous system was shattered.

“What was the dream?” asked his wife.

“I—I—dreamed the trustees required that—that I should—that I should pass the freshman examination for—admission!” sighed the president.