I send the storms of life to weather;
To steer as safely as they can,
To honor GOD, and profit man.

"_Imprimis_, then, my bed and bedding,
My only chattels worth the sledding,
Consisting of a maple stead,
A counterpane, and coverlet,
Two cases with the pillows in,
A blanket, cord, a winch and pin,
Two sheets, a feather bed and hay-tick,
I order sledded up to _Natick_,
And that with care the sledder save them
For those kind parents, first who gave them.

"_Item_. The Laughing Club, so blest,
Who think this life what 't is,--a jest,--
Collect its flowers from every spray,
And laugh its goading thorns away;
From whom to-morrow I dissever,
Take one sweet grin, and leave for ever;
My chest, and all that in it is,
I give and I bequeath them, viz.:
Westminster grammar, old and poor,
Another one, compiled by Moor;
A bunch of pamphlets pro and con
The doctrine of salva-ti-on;
The college laws, I'm freed from minding,
A Hebrew psalter, stripped from binding.
A Hebrew Bible, too, lies nigh it,
Unsold--because no one would buy it.

"My manuscripts, in prose and verse,
They take for better and for worse;
Their minds enlighten with the best,
And pipes and candles with the rest;
Provided that from them they cull
My college exercises dull,
On threadbare theme, with mind unwilling,
Strained out through fear of fine one shilling,
To teachers paid t' avert an evil,
Like Indian worship to the Devil.
The above-named manuscripts, I say.
To club aforesaid I convey,
Provided that said themes, so given,
Full proofs that _genius won't be driven_,
To our physicians be presented,
As the best opiates yet invented.

"_Item_. The government of college,
Those liberal _helluos_ of knowledge,
Who, e'en in these degenerate days,
Deserve the world's unceasing praise;
Who, friends of science and of men,
Stand forth Gomorrah's righteous ten;
On them I naught but thanks bestow,
For, like my cash, my credit's low;
So I can give nor clothes nor wines,
But bid them welcome to my fines.

"_Item_. My study desk of pine,
That work-bench, sacred to the nine,
Which oft hath groaned beneath my metre,
I give to pay my debts to PETER.

"_Item_. Two penknives with white handles,
A bunch of quills, and pound of candles,
A lexicon compiled by COLE,
A pewter spoon, and earthen bowl,
A hammer, and two homespun towels,
For which I yearn with tender bowels,
Since I no longer can control them,
I leave to those sly lads who stole them.

"_Item_. A gown much greased in Commons,
A hat between a man's and woman's,
A tattered coat of college blue,
A fustian waistcoat torn in two,
With all my rust, through college carried,
I give to classmate O----,[67] who's _married_.

"_Item_. C------ P------s[68] has my knife,
During his natural college life,--
That knife, which ugliness inherits,
And due to his superior merits;
And when from Harvard he shall steer,
I order him to leave it here,
That 't may from class to class descend,
Till time and ugliness shall end.

"The said C------ P------s, humor's son,
Who long shall stay when I am gone,
The Muses' most successful suitor,
I constitute my executor;
And for his trouble to requite him,
Member of Laughing Club I write him.

"Myself on life's broad sea I throw,
Sail with its joy, or stem its woe,
No other friend to take my part,
Than careless head and honest heart.
My purse is drained, my debts are paid,
My glass is run, my will is made,
To beauteous Cam. I bid adieu,
And with the world begin anew."

Following the example of his friend Biglow, Mr. Prentiss, on
leaving college, prepared a will, which afterwards appeared in one
of the earliest numbers of the Rural Repository, a literary paper,
the publication of which he commenced at Leominster, Mass., in the
autumn of 1795. Thomas Paine, afterwards Robert Treat Paine, Jr.,
immediately transferred it to the columns of the Federal Orrery,
which paper he edited, with these introductory remarks: "Having,
in the second number of 'Omnium Gatherum' presented to our readers
the last will and testament of Charles Chatterbox, Esq., of witty
memory, wherein the said Charles, now deceased, did lawfully
bequeath to Ch----s Pr----s the celebrated 'Ugly Knife,' to be by
him transmitted, at his collegiate demise, to the next succeeding
candidate;... and whereas the said Ch-----s Pr-----s, on the 21st
of June last, departed his aforesaid '_college life_,' thereby
leaving to the inheritance of his successor the valuable legacy,
which his illustrious friend had bequeathed, as an _entailed
estate_, to the poets of the university,--we have thought proper
to insert a full, true, and attested copy of the will of the last
deceased heir, in order that the world may be furnished with a
correct genealogy of this renowned _jack-knife_, whose pedigree
will become as illustrious in after time as the family of the
'ROLLES,' and which will be celebrated by future wits as the most
formidable _weapon_ of modern genius."

"A WILL;

BEING THE LAST WORDS OP CH----S PR----S, LATE WORTHY AND MUCH
LAMENTED MEMBER OF THE LAUGHING CLUB OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY, WHO
DEPARTED COLLEGE LIFE ON THE 21ST OF JUNE, 1795.

"I, Pr-----s Ch----s, of judgment sound,
In soul, in limb and wind, now found;
I, since my head is full of wit,
And must be emptied, or must split,
In name of _president_ APOLLO,
And other gentle folks, that follow:
Such as URANIA and CLIO,
To whom my fame poetic I owe;
With the whole drove of rhyming sisters,
For whom my heart with rapture blisters;
Who swim in HELICON uncertain
Whether a petticoat or shirt on,
From vulgar ken their charms do cover,
From every eye but _Muses' lover_;
In name of every ugly GOD;
Whose beauty scarce outshines a toad;
In name of PROSERPINE and PLUTO,
Who board in hell's sublimest grotto;
In name of CERBERUS and FURIES,
Those damned _aristocrats_ and tories;
In presence of two witnesses,
Who are as homely as you please,
Who are in truth, I'd not belie 'em,
Ten times as ugly, faith, as I am;
But being, as most people tell us,
A pair of jolly clever fellows,
And classmates likewise, at this time,
They sha'n't be honored in my rhyme.
I--I say I, now make this will;
Let those whom I assign fulfil.
I give, grant, render, and convey
My goods and chattels thus away:
That _honor of a college life_,
_That celebrated_ UGLY KNIFE,
Which predecessor SAWNEY[69] orders,
Descending to time's utmost borders,
To _noblest bard of homeliest phiz_,
To have and hold and use as his;
I now present C----s P----y S----r,[70]
To keep with his poetic lumber,
To scrape his quid, and make a split,
To point his pen for sharpening wit;
And order that he ne'er abuse
Said Ugly Knife, in dirtier use,
And let said CHARLES, that best of writers,
In prose satiric skilled to bite us,
And equally in verse delight us,
Take special care to keep it clean
From unpoetic hands,--I ween.
And when those walls, the Muses' seat,
Said S----r is obliged to quit,
Let some one of APOLLO'S firing,
To such heroic joys aspiring,
Who long has borne a poet's name,
With said knife cut his way to fame.

"I give to those that fish for parts,
Long sleepless nights, and aching hearts,
A little soul, a fawning spirit,
With half a grain of plodding merit,
Which is, as Heaven I hope will say,
Giving what's not my own away.

"Those _oven baked_ or _goose egg folded_,
Who, though so often I have told it,
With all my documents to show it,
Will scarce believe that I'm a poet,
I give of criticism the lens
With half an ounce of common sense.

"And 't would a breach be of humanity,
Not to bequeath D---n[71] my vanity;
For 'tis a rule direct from Heaven,
_To him that hath, more shall be given_.

"_Item_. Tom M----n,[72] COLLEGE LION,
Who'd ne'er spend cash enough to buy one,
The BOANERGES of a pun,
A man of science and of fun,
That quite uncommon witty elf,
Who darts his bolts and shoots himself,
Who oft hath bled beneath my jokes,
I give my old _tobacco-box_.

"My _Centinels_[73] for some years past,
So neatly bound with thread and paste,
Exposing Jacobinic tricks,
I give my chum _for politics_.

"My neckcloth, dirty, old, yet _strong_,
That round my neck has lasted long,
I give BIG BOY, for deed of pith,
Namely, to hang himself therewith.

"To those who've parts at exhibition
Obtained by long, unwearied fishing,
I say, to such unlucky wretches,
I give, for wear, a brace of breeches;
Then used; as they're but little tore,
I hope they'll show their tails no more.

"And ere it quite has gone to rot,
I, B---- give my blue great-coat,
With all its rags, and dirt, and tallow,
Because he's such a dirty fellow.

"Now for my books; first, _Bunyan's Pilgrim_,
(As he with thankful pleasure will grin,)
Though dog-leaved, torn, in bad type set in,
'T will do quite well for classmate B----,
And thus, with complaisance to treat her,
'T will answer for another Detur.

"To him that occupies my study,
I give, for use of making toddy,
A bottle full of _white-face_ STINGO,
Another, handy, called a _mingo_.
My wit, as I've enough to spare,
And many much in want there are,
I ne'er intend to keep at _home_,
But give to those that handiest come,
Having due caution, _where_ and _when_,
Never to spatter _gentlemen_.
The world's loud call I can't refuse,
The fine productions of my muse;
If _impudence_ to _fame_ shall waft her,
I'll give the public all, hereafter.
My love-songs, sorrowful, complaining,
(The recollection puts me pain in,)
The last sad groans of deep despair,
That once could all my entrails tear;
My farewell sermon to the ladies;
My satire on a woman's head-dress;
My epigram so full of glee,
Pointed as epigrams should be;
My sonnets soft, and sweet as lasses,
My GEOGRAPHY of MOUNT PARNASSUS;
With all the bards that round it gather,
And variations of the weather;
Containing more true humorous satire,
Than's oft the lot of human nature;
('O dear, what can the matter be!'
I've given away my _vanity_;
The vessel can't so much contain,
It runs o'er and comes back again.)
My blank verse, poems so majestic,
My rhymes heroic, tales agrestic;
The whole, I say, I'll overhaul 'em,
Collect and publish in a volume.

"My heart, which thousand ladies crave,
That I intend my wife shall have.
I'd give my foibles to the wind,
And leave my vices all behind;
But much I fear they'll to me stick,
Where'er I go, through thin and thick.
On WISDOM'S _horse_, oh, might I ride,
Whose steps let PRUDENCE' bridle guide.
Thy loudest voice, O REASON, lend,
And thou, PHILOSOPHY, befriend.
May candor all my actions guide,
And o'er my every thought preside,
And in thy ear, O FORTUNE, one word,
Let thy swelled canvas bear me onward,
Thy favors let me ever see,
And I'll be much obliged to thee;
And come with blooming visage meek,
Come, HEALTH, and ever flush my cheek;
O bid me in the morning rise,
When tinges Sol the eastern skies;
At breakfast, supper-time, or dinner,
Let me against thee be no sinner.

"And when the glass of life is run,
And I behold my setting sun,
May conscience sound be my protection,
And no ungrateful recollection,
No gnawing cares nor tumbling woes,
Disturb the quiet of life's close.
And when Death's gentle feet shall come
To bear me to my endless home,
Oh! may my soul, should Heaven but save it,
Safely return to GOD who gave it."
_Federal Orrery_, Oct. 29, 1795. _Buckingham's Reminiscences_,
Vol. II. pp. 228-231, 268-273.

It is probable that the idea of a "College Will" was suggested to
Biglow by "Father Abbey's Will," portions of which, till the
present generation, were "familiar to nearly all the good
housewives of New England." From the history of this poetical
production, which has been lately printed for private circulation
by the Rev. John Langdon Sibley of Harvard College, the annexed
transcript of the instrument itself, together with the love-letter
which was suggested by it, has been taken. The instances in which
the accepted text differs from a Broadside copy, in the possession
of the editor of this work, are noted at the foot of the page.

"FATHER ABBEY'S WILL:

TO WHICH IS NOW ADDED, A LETTER OF COURTSHIP TO HIS VIRTUOUS AND
AMIABLE WIDOW.
"_Cambridge, December_, 1730.

"Some time since died here Mr. Matthew Abbey, in a very advanced
age: He had for a great number of years served the College in
quality of Bedmaker and Sweeper: Having no child, his wife
inherits his whole estate, which he bequeathed to her by his last
will and testament, as follows, viz.:--

"To my dear wife
My joy and life,
I freely now do give her,
My whole estate,
With all my plate,
Being just about to leave her.

"My tub of soap,
A long cart-rope,
A frying pan and kettle,
An ashes[74] pail,
A threshing-flail,
An iron wedge and beetle.

"Two painted chairs,
Nine warden pears,
A large old dripping platter,
This bed of hay
On which I lay,
An old saucepan for butter.

"A little mug,
A two-quart jug,
A bottle full of brandy,
A looking-glass
To see your face,
You'll find it very handy.

"A musket true,
As ever flew,
A pound of shot and wallet,
A leather sash,
My calabash,
My powder-horn and bullet.

"An old sword-blade,
A garden spade,
A hoe, a rake, a ladder,
A wooden can,
A close-stool pan,
A clyster-pipe and bladder.

"A greasy hat,
My old ram cat,
A yard and half of linen,
A woollen fleece,
A pot of grease,[75]
In order for your spinning.

"A small tooth comb,
An ashen broom,
A candlestick and hatchet,
A coverlid
Striped down with red,
A bag of rags to patch it.

"A rugged mat,
A tub of fat,
A book put out by Bunyan,
Another book
By Robin Cook,[76]
A skein or two of spun-yarn.

"An old black muff,
Some garden stuff,
A quantity of borage,[77]
Some devil's weed,
And burdock seed,
To season well your porridge.

"A chafing-dish,
With one salt-fish.
If I am not mistaken,
A leg of pork,
A broken fork,
And half a flitch of bacon.

"A spinning-wheel,
One peck of meal,
A knife without a handle,
A rusty lamp,
Two quarts of samp,
And half a tallow candle.

"My pouch and pipes,
Two oxen tripes,
An oaken dish well carved,
My little dog,
And spotted hog,
With two young pigs just starved.

"This is my store,
I have no more,
I heartily do give it:
My years are spun,
My days are done,
And so I think to leave it.

"Thus Father Abbey left his spouse,
As rich as church or college mouse,
Which is sufficient invitation
To serve the college in his station."
_Newhaven, January_ 2, 1731.

"Our sweeper having lately buried his spouse, and accidentally
hearing of the death and will of his deceased Cambridge brother,
has conceived a violent passion for the relict. As love softens
the mind and disposes to poetry, he has eased himself in the
following strains, which he transmits to the charming widow, as
the first essay of his love and courtship.

"MISTRESS Abbey
To you I fly,
You only can relieve me;
To you I turn,
For you I burn,
If you will but believe me.

"Then, gentle dame,
Admit my flame,
And grant me my petition;
If you deny,
Alas! I die
In pitiful condition.

"Before the news
Of your dear spouse
Had reached us at New Haven,
My dear wife dy'd,
Who was my bride
In anno eighty-seven.

"Thus[78] being free,
Let's both agree
To join our hands, for I do
Boldly aver
A widower
Is fittest for a widow.

"You may be sure
'T is not your dower
I make this flowing verse on;
In these smooth lays
I only praise
The glories[79] of your person.

"For the whole that
Was left by[80] _Mat._
Fortune to me has granted
In equal store,
I've[81] one thing more
Which Matthew long had wanted.

"No teeth, 't is true,
You have to shew,
The young think teeth inviting;
But silly youths!
I love those mouths[82]
Where there's no fear of biting.

"A leaky eye,
That's never dry,
These woful times is fitting.
A wrinkled face
Adds solemn grace
To folks devout at meeting.

"[A furrowed brow,
Where corn might grow,
Such fertile soil is seen in 't,
A long hook nose,
Though scorned by foes,
For spectacles convenient.][83]

"Thus to go on
I would[84] put down
Your charms from head to foot,
Set all your glory
In verse before ye,
But I've no mind to do 't.[85]

"Then haste away,
And make no stay;
For soon as you come hither,
We'll eat and sleep,
Make beds and sweep.
And talk and smoke together.

"But if, my dear,
I must move there,
Tow'rds Cambridge straight I'll set me.[86]
To touse the hay
On which you lay,
If age and you will let me."[87]

The authorship of Father Abbey's Will and the Letter of Courtship
is ascribed to the Rev. John Seccombe, who graduated at Harvard
College in the year 1728. The former production was sent to
England through the hands of Governor Belcher, and in May, 1732,
appeared both in the Gentleman's Magazine and the London Magazine.
The latter was also despatched to England, and was printed in the
Gentleman's Magazine for June, and in the London Magazine for
August, 1732. Both were republished in the Massachusetts Magazine,
November, 1794. A most entertaining account of the author of these
poems, and of those to whom they relate, may be found in the
"Historical and Biographical Notes" of the pamphlet to which
allusion has been already made, and in the "Cambridge [Mass.]
Chronicle" of April 28, 1855.


WINE. To drink wine.

After "wining" to a certain extent, we sallied forth from his
rooms.--_Alma Mater_, Vol. I. p. 14.

Hither they repair each day after dinner "_to wine_."

_Ibid._, Vol. I. p. 95.

After dinner I had the honor of _wining_ with no less a personage
than a fellow of the college.--_Ibid._, Vol. I. p. 114.


In _wining_ with a fair one opposite, a luckless piece of jelly
adhered to the tip of his still more luckless nose.--_The Blank
Book of a Small-Colleger_, New York, 1824, p. 75.


WINE PARTY. Among students at the University of Cambridge, Eng.,
an entertainment after dinner, which is thus described by Bristed:
"Many assemble at _wine parties_ to chat over a frugal dessert of
oranges, biscuits, and cake, and sip a few glasses of not
remarkably good wine. These wine parties are the most common
entertainments, being rather the cheapest and very much the most
convenient, for the preparations required for them are so slight
as not to disturb the studies of the hardest reading man, and they
take place at a time when no one pretends to do any work."--_Five
Years in an Eng. Univ._, Ed. 2d, p. 21.


WIRE. At Harvard College, a trick; an artifice; a stratagem; a
_dodge_.


WIRY. Trickish; artful.


WITENAGEMOTE. Saxon, _witan_, to know, and _gemot_, a meeting, a
council.

In the University of Oxford, the weekly meeting of the heads of
the colleges.--_Oxford Guide_.


WOODEN SPOON. In the University of Cambridge, Eng., the scholar
whose name stands last of all on the printed list of honors, at
the Bachelors' Commencement in January, is scoffingly said to gain
the _wooden spoon_. He is also very currently himself called the
_wooden spoon_.

A young academic coming into the country immediately after this
great competition, in which he had conspicuously distinguished
himself, was asked by a plain country gentleman, "Pray, Sir, is my
Jack a Wrangler?" "No, Sir." Now Jack had confidently pledged
himself to his uncle that he would take his degree with honor. "A
Senior Optime?" "No, Sir." "Why, what was he then?" "Wooden
Spoon!" "Best suited to his wooden head," said the mortified
inquirer.--_Forby's Vocabulary_, Vol. II. p. 258.

It may not perhaps be improper to mention one very remarkable
personage, I mean "the _Wooden Spoon_." This luckless wight (for
what cause I know not) is annually the universal butt and
laughing-stock of the whole Senate-House. He is the last of those
young men who take honors, in his year, and is called a Junior
Optime; yet, notwithstanding his being in fact superior to them
all, the very lowest of the [Greek: oi polloi], or gregarious
undistinguished bachelors, think themselves entitled to shoot the
pointless arrows of their clumsy wit against the _wooden spoon_;
and to reiterate the stale and perennial remark, that "Wranglers
are born with gold spoons in their mouths, Senior Optimes with
silver, Junior Optimes with _wooden_, and the [Greek: oi polloi]
with leaden ones."--_Gent. Mag._, 1795, p. 19.

Who while he lives must wield the boasted prize,
Whose value all can feel, the weak, the wise;
Displays in triumph his distinguished boon,
The solid honors of the _wooden spoon_.
_Grad. ad Cantab._, p. 119.

2. At Yale College, this title is conferred on the student who
takes the last appointment at the Junior Exhibition. The following
account of the ceremonies incident to the presentation of the
Wooden Spoon has been kindly furnished by a graduate of that
institution.

"At Yale College the honors, or, as they are there termed,
appointments, are given to a class twice during the course;--upon
the merits of the two preceding years, at the end of the first
term, Junior; and at the end of the second term, Senior, upon the
merits of the whole college course. There are about eight grades
of appointments, the lowest of which is the Third Colloquy. Each
grade has its own standard, and if a number of students have
attained to the same degree, they receive the same appointment. It
is rarely the case, however, that more than one student can claim
the distinction of a third colloquy; but when there are several,
they draw lots to see which is entitled to be considered properly
_the_ third colloquy man.

"After the Junior appointments are awarded, the members of the
Junior Class hold an exhibition similar to the regular Junior
exhibition, and present a _wooden spoon_ to the man who received
the lowest honor in the gift of the Faculty.

"The exhibition takes place in the evening, at some public hall in
town. Except to those engaged in the arrangements, nothing is
known about it among the students at large, until the evening of
the performances, when notices of the hour and place are quietly
circulated at prayers, in order that it may not reach the ears of
the Faculty, who are ever too ready to participate in the sports
of the students, and to make the result tell unfavorably against
the college welfare of the more prominent characters.

"As the appointed hour approaches, long files of black coats may
be seen emerging from the dark halls, and winding their way
through the classic elms towards the Temple, the favorite scene of
students' exhibitions and secret festivals. When they reach the
door, each man must undergo the searching scrutiny of the
door-keeper, usually disguised as an Indian, to avoid being
recognized by a college officer, should one chance to be in the
crowd, and no one is allowed to enter unless he is known.

"By the time the hour of the exercises has arrived, the hall is
densely packed with undergraduates and professional students. The
President, who is a non-appointment man, and probably the poorest
scholar in the class, sits on a stage with his associate
professors. Appropriate programmes, printed in the college style,
are scattered throughout the house. As the hour strikes, the
President arises with becoming dignity, and, instead of the usual
phrase, 'Musicam audeamus,' restores order among the audience by
'Silentiam audeamus,' and then addresses the band, 'Musica
cantetur.'

"Then follow a series of burlesque orations, dissertations, and
disputes, upon scientific and other subjects, from the wittiest
and cleverest men in the class, and the house is kept in a
continual roar of laughter. The highest appointment men frequently
take part in the speeches. From time to time the band play, and
the College choir sing pieces composed for the occasion. In one of
the best, called AUDACIA, composed in imitation of the Crambambuli
song, by a member of the class to which the writer belonged, the
Wooden Spoon is referred to in the following stanza:--

'But do not think our life is aimless;
O no! we crave one blessed boon,
It is the prize of value nameless,
The honored, classic WOODEN SPOON;
But give us this, we'll shout Hurrah!
O nothing like Audacia!'

"After the speeches are concluded and the music has ceased, the
President rises and calls the name of the hero of the evening, who
ascends the stage and stands before the high dignitary. The
President then congratulates him upon having attained to so
eminent a position, and speaks of the pride that he and his
associates feel in conferring upon him the highest honor in their