Walter Camps book of College Sports

home-coming without enlivening incident, and not conducive to the glamour I would throw over the sport. IT is the end of June, and Commencement week is drawing to its close. The campus, with its canopy of old elms, has echoed with the annual shouts of class histories; the fence has again held the dangling limbs of the returning alumni, the chapel has been filled with the eloquence of orator and poet, and the white, stark old Center church has heard one more valedictory, and seen once again the giving of degrees. To the graduating-class, the end of college days for the first time looms up as a reality. The excitement of class exercises has up to this time hidden the specter of farewell. Yet there remains one more event; once more may their blood be stirred, and their enthusiasm aroused, before they leave old Yale behind them for the more serious realities of life. The boat race is yet to come, and every one is going. The fair friends who have come on to see their brothers, and the brothers of other girls, graduate are in a nutter of excitement over the final event. They have crushed one and anotherof their pretty gowns at promenade, ball-match, and Commencement; but they appear at the depot as neat and trim and cool as one might wish, ready to set out for New London. The long excursion-train stands on the tracks, and from nearly every window nutters the blue of Yale. The cars are already crowded, and still they come. " Oh, I wish we 'd start!" cries out a prett...