Memories of C. G. R. James Fifty Years Hence.

In proposing the toast of the ladies at the graduates' supper, Mr. James asked what our University would do without them, what our study—the Library—would be like but for furtive glances at some fair beauty across the hall, and so shall he reminisce:—

When I consider what I value best
Among the many gifts which youth conspired
To bestow on fond hopes I long desired
Before I could discern their secret, lest
Chill thought should bid them unfulfilled remain;
A wonder steals upon me. for unknown
The greatest loveliness of all has shown
That even learning does not fate ordain.

My thought drifts back to library and hall,
To lectures., books, and memories aglow
With furtive glances at my silvered bride
Who there at Salamanca in the fall
Had captured me, and now, alas, I know
That loves life's shiboleth of work divide.