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108 nouncing the names of the successful candidates for degrees and diplomas. Then is the time for true friendship to appear, for on one side is the successful friend for whom you must wear a happy, delighted expression, and on the other the friend who has "busted" and needs all your sympathy and comforting assurances. The excitement even seizes the fair ladies of the community, so that you hear nothing from morning till night but queries as to the results of the examinations.

On the last Sunday in June is delivered the final sermon before the Y. M. C. A., by some noted divine invited for the purpose. On Monday and Tuesday nights respectively are held the final celebrations of the "Wash." and "Jeff." Societies. Tuesday morning is devoted to the joint celebration of these two societies, when they are addressed by some man of prominence either in politics or literature.

On Monday morning and Tuesday afternoon are given two germans, where may be seen some of the fairest daughters of the South and the prettiest dancers in the world.

Wednesday is the final day of the session, and early in the morning the young men who have won their degrees, professional or academic, may be seen flitting about in their dress-suits, and those who will take diplomas dressed in their best for the gala occasion.

At ten o'clock the procession forms on the beautiful sward in front of the rotunda, the Board of Visitors in the place of honor at the head of the line, then the professors, next the graduates, by classes, and last of all the men on whom are to be conferred degrees.

Weber's band at a given signal strikes up some familiar march, and forward moves the line, up the long steps, down the long, broad passage, and into the Public Hall, with its thousand expectant faces and happy hearts. After all the diplomas and degrees have been conferred on the happy recipients, the session is declared at an end.

Then is introduced the orator of the day, chosen from among our distinguished alumni. After listening for an hour to an interesting speech, and cheering as much as the exhausted and weakened state of our lungs will allow, we disperse, with sad hearts at the thought that this delightful session has come to a close. We no longer remember our trials and difficulties and our hours of toil, but only the happy, thoughtless times in which we have let books go to the winds, and the many warm friendships we have made.

On Wednesday night occurs the greatest event of the Finals, in the opinion of the dancers,—the final ball.

The large library, a circular room fifty feet in diameter, with a dome roof having a pitch of about thirty feet, is used as the ball-room. Little alcoves surround it, which afford a splendid opportunity for flirtations