shion of wearing the hair in a
queue was more in vogue. From a record of curious facts, it
appears that the last wig which appeared at Commencement in
Harvard College was worn by Mr. John Marsh, in the year 1819.

See DRESS.

WILL. At Harvard College, it was at one time the mode for the
student to whom had been given the JACK-KNIFE in consequence of
his ugliness, to transmit the inheritance, when he left, to some
one of equal pretensions in the class next below him. At one
period, this transmission was effected by a _will_, in which not
only the knife, but other articles, were bequeathed. As the 21st
of June was, till of late years, the day on which the members of
the Senior Class closed their collegiate studies, and retired to
make preparations for the ensuing Commencement, Wills were usually
dated at that time. The first will of this nature of which mention
is made is that of Mr. William Biglow, a member of the class of
1794, and the recipient for that year of the knife. It appeared in
the department entitled "Omnium Gatherum" of the Federal Orrery,
published at Boston, April 27, 1795, in these words:--

"A WILL:

BEING THE LAST WORDS OF CHARLES CHATTERBOX, ESQ., LATE WORTHY AND
MUCH LAMENTED MEMBER OF THE LAUGHING CLUB OF HARVARD UNIVERSITT,
WHO DEPARTED COLLEGE LIFE, JUNE 21, 1794, IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR
OF HIS AGE.

"I, CHARLEY CHATTER, sound of mind,
To making fun am much inclined;
So, having cause to apprehend
My college life is near its end,
All future quarrels to prevent,
I seal this will and testament.

"My soul and body, while together,
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, com