What! (reasoned I) is this the sequel to the Democratic meeting of last night? Has Mars, who presided at the town-hall, a seat in the lecture-room of this Theological Seminary? As the young man proceeded, however, I perceived that his poem was, in fact, a denunciation of the horrors of war,--not, as I had supposed, the composition of another person committed to memory, and now rehearsed as an exercise in elocution, but entirely his own. It was altogether a creditable performance. The Professors at the close made their criticisms upon it, which were all highly favourable. Dr. Beecher said, "My only criticism is, _Print it, print it_." The venerable Doctor, with the natural partiality of a tutor, afterwards observed to me he had never heard anything against war that took so strong a hold of his feelings as that poem. Dr. Stowe also told me that Mr. Armstrong was considered a young man of fine talents and great devotion; and that some of the students had facetiously said, "Brother Armstrong was so pious that even the dogs would not bark at him!" Mr. Armstrong was not at all disposed to take his tutor's advice. But he favoured me with a copy of his poem, on condition that I would not cause it to be printed in America,--in England I might. It contains some turgid expressions, some halting and prosaic lines, and might be improved by a severe revision; but, besides its interest as a Transatlantic college-exercise, I feel it possesses sufficient merit to relieve the tediousness of my own prose.