In what way they drove the cart down stairs, history does not mention. That was the concern of the owner and of the college authorities, and not mine nor my heroes--it may be in the hall to this day, for aught I know. But how they got up so high in the world is another matter, and I will let you into my secret, merely to convince my incredulous hearers that the thing was possible. Each of the fellows shouldered as many logs as he could carry, conveyed them to the appointed place, and returned swiftly to the charge. The wheels were now off, and ready for four of them, and the body of the cart for eight more. Forsythe and Barrington reserved for themselves the honor and glory of managing the live-stock. Slipping woollen socks over his feet, they somehow got him up-stairs with marvellous celerity; and whilst his owner was gazing up and down for his vanished property, the astonished horse was again tackled to the loaded cart, his hose were taken off, and he was left to his meditations, in solitary possession of the hall. So quietly was all this done, that, although students and tutors were in the rooms adjoining, nothing was suspected, until the horse, who felt himself to be placed, without any fault of his own, in a false position, made known his sentiments by his impatient movements. The worst trick our heroes ever played, and one of a somewhat kindred character, consisted in ornamenting Professor X's horse. At midnight, when the authorities were sound asleep, they took the poor animal out of his comfortable stable, and shoeing him with an extra quantity of felt, to prevent any noise, they conveyed him, with great difficulty, up the staircase, to the hall in the third floor. That might have satisfied them; but no, they were not pleased with his color. He was of pure white, and the scapegraces wished a variegated hue. So, after a preliminary shaving, they painted him in green stripes, and when they had arranged it to their satisfaction, they went to their own rooms. The unfortunate victim was not well contented, either with his quarters or his condition, and stamped about at a great rate, being quite unable to get down stairs. In the morning, when the Professor was ready for his usual ride, where was his horse? It had vanished, and the stable-door was open: thieves must have been prowling about in the night. At last, the trick was discovered; and then, as Will Forsythe said, "I could paint that horse, which was rather restive, but I would not undertake to paint the wrath of the Professor." Of course, no one did it--it was impossible to discover the guilty individuals. But the poor animal did not enjoy the frolic as much as the wild youngsters, for he died in consequence; and this unfortunate termination of the exploit put a stop to any practical jokes for the enormous period of several months. To make up the unexpected loss to the Professor, the two friends sent him, anonymously, a sum of money equal to the value of the horse.