If, a little before sunrise on the first Friday after the 13th of January, a stranger happened to find himself in front of the Senate-House, he would see a sight to arrest his attention. He would observe a cluster of gownsmen closely packed around the bolted doors and the railings which fortify the entrance;–others he would notice pacing backward and forward in the cold street, and some intently gazing in one particular direction, as if in expectation. The greater number appear animated and cheerful, but some there are whose countenances wear less of excitement than anxiety, yet such an air as shews that they have at least as much to do with the scene as the rest. Presently one or two persons, who by their dress and demeanour are known to be dons, are seen advancing up the street. The crowd condenses round them so rapidly and closely, that they have some difficulty in forcing their way. But at length the doors are reached–passed–and closed again. A few minutes elapse, and they are suddenly thrown open. There is a simultaneous rush into the building; and in a moment is heard an indistinct sound of voices blending confusedly with some single voice which holds on a regular and uninterrupted course.