Captain Gildrock sent Mr. Bentnick, the principal instructor, to invite them on shore to partake of a collation. Colonel Buckmill sat in the stern-sheets of the Dasher, but he politely declined the invitation, with profuse thanks. His young gentlemen desired to see the launch, but he would not give the principal any trouble on such a busy day. The captain was sorry for this refusal, but he seemed to insist that the hospitality of Beech Hill should not suffer in the estimation of the students from the other side, and he sent a boat loaded with ice-cream, cake, and lemonade to the unwonted visitors, which were accepted with more thanks. At a few minutes before four, the principal and a small party, including not more than half a dozen of the students, went on board of the Lily. A little later, the gallant captain of the Sylph escorted Miss Lily Bristol to the deck of the boat. Her appearance was the occasion of the most tremendous applause on the part of the students and the crowd assembled on shore. It was observed that the Chesterfields joined in this demonstration, with a vigor which astonished their former foes. Captain Gildrock gave certain orders, which were followed by the sound of hammers as the hands knocked away the wedges. The principal raised his hand, which was followed by one discharge of a cannon. At this instant the hull began to move very slowly. Assisted by Captain Dornwood, Lily Bristol ascended to the heel of the bowsprit with a bottle in her hand. What this bottle contained no one but the captain knew. According to tradition and custom, it ought to be filled with wine; but the principal was a very strong, practical temperance man. However, as the contents of the bottle were to be dashed into the lake, it did not much matter what they were. The velocity of the moving hull increased as she descended the inclined plane; and as soon as she was under full headway, Lily broke the bottle over the bow of the schooner. "I give to this vessel the name of Lily, and may she be prosperous on the element to which she belongs," said she. Then the band struck up "Hail to the Chief," and all the students and everybody else yelled and applauded with all their might. The ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and a salvo of artillery followed. The Lily struck the water, and ploughed her way nearly to the other side of the lake, where she was brought up by the lines attached to her. She rested on the water as gracefully as a swan, and as soon as she was fairly afloat, another series of ringing cheers saluted her.