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Riley leaned forward and stretched out his hand hastily for the paper. The other drew back startled by the sudden movement. A vague terror crept over him as he gazed at the hard, eager face thrust into his.


"Wait," he stammered. "Wha's in the paper? I wan't t'read

With an oath, Riley snatched the sheet from the trembling fingers.

"God, man! It's not the deed?" Watson shrieked. "Give it back, Riley, give it back. For the love of God, man. Have a little pity for her at least. Give it back, you damned scoundrel."

Watson, entirely sober now, was standing by the table, resting heavily upon it. Riley slipped one hand back to his pocket and laughed tauntingly at the white face opposite. Then he shook open the paper clinched in his fist, and by the flaring gas-light he read-"old friend, John Riley."

H. S. Lovejoy.

At St. Augustine all streets lead to San Marco. Out beyond the palmetto gardens of the Ponce de Leon it lies,ancient stronghold of the Spaniards. Beyond SAN MARCO. it gleams the sea. On this side spreads the broad, green scarf-like parade ground, patterned with walks and jeweled with fountains. Half crouching behind the sea-wall, the old fort, with its square-fronted bastions, tipped with watch-towers straining out to sea, answers with a soft white gleam to the morning sunlight. It is like a snow-fort built in some huge frolic of the childhood of the gods, suggestive not of bursting shells, but fit rather to be pelted with orange blossoms and fanned by spice winds.

A few moments' brisk walk through a fissure-like street rent from between white stucco houses, brings you to the drawbridge. Between its rotten planks at the bottom of the moat a single wild rose flames red among the mosses. Beyond the moat the sunlight dies, and the place breathes its damp, chill breath into your face. From the fairy-land of palm trees and of flowers you have plunged into this musty mausoleum of Inquisition days.

From the drawbridge a low tunnel bores through the masonry to a gloomy, oblong court, open to the sky. This is overhung

on every side by lofty parapets, and its floor is tessellated in light and shadow by thin, diluted sunlight sifting through the eastern ports. At the right a graded way climbs the steep acclivity of the wall. Beneath it, and extending round the court is a chain of grated, iron gates, each the muzzled throat of a subterranean chamber. The forsaken look of the place is only emphasized by the presence of a solitary Indian who crouches like a granite statue in a niche in the parapet, as if supporting that vast pile of coquina blocks on his bent shoulders. But little blue smoke wisps hover softly above his pipe bowl, and, "Ees it the dungeon, sir?" he asks.

A moment more and he is shambling unsteadily across the court toward one of the iron gates, unwrapping a pine torch from a fold of his tattered blanket. The key turns painfully, like an unused joint in its socket. The ponderous gate groans. open; you hurry down a narrow, rock-ribbed tunnel dipping steeply into the night. The torch kindles the low-vaulted roof. A lurid light flickers over the dank walls and plumes of pale moss waving from rifts in the masonry. Then sweeping a downward arc, it is suddenly blotted out. Only a dull glow remains. Is the guide swallowed in some subterranean lake, and is this a lingering after-image of the fancy?

"It ees the dungeon, sir. Gentleman must stoop, sir."

A circular door cuts through a buried rind of stone into this chamber of horror scooped out of solid night. Its breath is heavy and depressing as the hand of death. The walls are coated with a leprosy of scaly lichen. Not a sound breaks the silence save the crackle of falling bits from the torch as they trail their little jets of flame to sputter out on the clammy pavement. The rusty chain, deep set in the wall, with its cruel cuff from which only death could slip away; the shadows, wavering into unearthly forms on the masonry-everything tends to intensify the baleful uncanniness of the place. Here Osceola languished. Here, whisper the town-folk, whitened starving victims of the hate of Spain.

Above, the sword-leaves of the palmettos still are rustling and the fountains still are playing in the gardens, tuned to a better civilization than that of malevolent old San Marco in his masquerade of stainless snow.

Rolland M. Edmonds.


The Dramatic Association

On April 5th, 6th and 7th produced Pinero's "The Magistrate" most successfully. The first two productions were at the Hyperion, the third at the Carnegie Lyceum, New York.

The Linonia Debating Society

On April 10th entertained the following new members at its annual banquet at Heublein's.

1906—C. H. Banks, Harry Beal, L. O. Bergh, Donald Bruce, Grosvenor Ely, C. W. Goodyear, Jr., A. B. Gregory, I. S. Hall, W. P. Hall, E. S. Mills, W. S. Moorhead, Frank O'Brien, L. J. Perrin, F. H. Rockwell, M. B. Sands, J. A. Stevenson, Spencer Turner, J. H. Twitchell, Edwin White, H. R. Wilson.

1906 S.-H. D. Baker, W. N. Bannard, Jr., K. H. Behr, C. G. Hall, Carrington Howard, W. O. Johnston, Julius Kruttschnitt, John D. Liggett, W. P. Stevens, R. C. Tripp.

The Ten Eyck Prize

On April 14th was awarded to Louis O. Bergh for his speech on "1904 in Colorado.” The other speakers were: Harry Beal of Oneonta, New York, on "Tenement House Reform;" Crawford Greene of Providence, R. I., on "Tenement House Reform;" Chester Burrows Van Tassel of Brooklyn, New York, on "Mazzini," and Arthur Leonard Westcott of Oneonta, New York, on "Sam Houston."

The Junior Fraternities

On April 19th announced the following elections from the class of 1907:

Alpha Delta Phi-Philip Waldron Boardman, Alexander Cushing Brown, Rufus Sherrill Maddox, Amasa Stone Mather, Irving Sands Olds, Henry Earl Sheffield, Malcolm Douglas Sloane, Courtland Stuyvesant Wheeler.

Psi Upsilon-Earnest Schwefel Ballard, Howard Boulton, Ludlow Seguine Bull, Harold Pegram Fabian, Bradley Goodyear, Karlton Goodsell Percy, Donald Mitchell Ryerson, Gilbert Little Stark.

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Delta Kappa Epsilon-Edward Barton, William Bowen Church, Charles Milton Fessenden, William Sherman Fisher, Charles Pew Garland, Percy William Holter, Charles Francis Robbins, Frederick Herrick Thomas.

Zeta Psi-Edward Hudson Barstow, William Ellsworth Clow, Lester Sweet Lewis, Leighton Lobdell, Dwight Raymond Meigs, Robert Hamilton Prentice, Arthur Purdy Stout, Lispenard Stewart Witherbee.

At the Annual Track Meet of the University of Pennsylvania Held on April 29th, the one and two mile relay races were won by Yale.

The Yale-Harvard Debate

Held at Cambridge, May 5th, was won by Harvard.

The Annual Competitive Drill

Of the Military Companies was held on May 5th at the 2d Regt. Armory. The individual prize was awarded to E. S. Chapin, '05 S. No company prize was awarded.

The Annual Inter-Class Track Games

Were held on May 6th, and were won by 1906.

The Annual Inter-Scholastic Meet

Held under the auspices of Yale, May 6th, was won by Hill School, Worcester Academy being second.

The College Crew

On May 6th was defeated by Annapolis on the Severn River.

The McLaughlin Memorial Prizes

On May 6th were awarded to the following Freshmen: Ist, George Henry Soule; 2d, Charles Seymour.

The Winston Trowbridge Townsend Prizes

On May 6th were awarded to the following members of the Freshman class: Henry Hollister Jackson, William Lesley Mason and Laurence Vail Updegraff.

Baseball Scores

April 7-Yale 4, N. Y. Nationals 17.

12-Yale 6, Brown 3.

15-Yale 2, Columbia 1.

20-Yale 3, Georgetown 4.

21-Yale 6, Virginia 5.

22-Yale 3, Richmond o.

24-Yale 18, Norfolk 3.

25-Yale 6, Georgetown 9.

26-Yale 3, University of Pennsylvania 2. 29-Yale 6, University of Pennsylvania o. May 3-Yale 5, University of Maine 3. 5-Yale 5, Andover 4. 6-Yale o, Brown 7.

In Memoriam

Thomas Griffin Shepard.


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