The Yale spirit! James Boyle O'Higgins was, as the saying goes, somewhat out of luck. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. From this perturbed state he was roused by thoughts of his mother, and fancying he heard her gentle voice urging him on to fresh exertion, he started up. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. " "He has done too much already," answered the widow.
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