REJECTED COMMUNICATIONS.

A few days ago while kicking around under the sanctum desk for the subject of an editorial, the waste-basket was accidentally overturned. The exchange editor reached over among the litter and drew out some MSS. which, after some consideration and pleading on his part, we have decided to present to the public. Communications were very prevalent of course. The first one we happened to pick out read as follows:

"EDITORS HERALD: Why can't we have a crossing between the west end of the Memorial Hall delta and and the opposite side of the street, by the entrance to Holmes' Field? A man coming from the gymnasium has to wade through mud and slush without hope. One of the college's gasoline beacons would also be an acceptable addition to this place. Yours,

ATHLETE."A good point, but the college is very poor and can't help you.

The next ran as follows:

"DEAR EDITORS HERALD: The ventilation in my recitation room is horrible, and - "

Ruled out, together with the beech-tree and Memorial Hall board questions.

Then came a plaintive epistle:

"DEAR HERALD EDITORS: In spite of all that you have so kindly said about ventilation in general and the Freshman Chemistry in particular, we freshmen still suffer very much from the foul odors engendered in experiments. - (I looked up the word in the dictionary, it's all right). Now, mother says I am looking quite badly, and father says I smell like a barkeeper, and my cousin Mary says I am horrid, so that she has to use her smelling-bottle. And . . ." [Here we cut out some affecting lamentations.] "Help us ere we dye. Very sincerely yours,

J. FRESH."Ah, Johnny, we can do nothing more for you. Editorials are of no avail.

There were a few dozen more remaining from our last bonfire, but we shall omit them and go on to another subject, - poetry. It seems that our few bits of verse have tempted the rhymsters to a considerable extent, and we are only sorry that their poetical efforts had not been confined to writing senior class songs. One contributor sends in "A Miss," as a complement to "A Kiss," in a late number:

"A front door dark,

A trite remark,

A dim-lit face up-turning.

Head bending apt,

Face smartly slapped,

And exit, cheeks hot burning."

Rejected, as we were afraid our readers would not understand "apt."

Of course we had some rhymes of this style, lately prevalent:

"There was a fair maiden of Boston,

Whom a swell Harvard senior got lost on;

But tho' badly smitten,

He got but the mitten;

On the waves of despair he's now tost on"

"A damsel once at the annex,

Was the pride and the bane of her sex - ."

Just here the managing editor snatched the manuscript and lighted his cigarette with it. Here was destroyed also some other material entitled "Patients," which was, perhaps, merely a prescription for the cure of ennui.

The next thing fished up was a dainty little missive, which the editor read as follows:

"DEAR EDITORS: George has been so very nice as to send me your paper regularly, and I have enjoyed intensely your delightful witticisms and charming verse. I enclose you a little piece of my own poetry:

I."Upon the dimpled water's shimmering tide,

Where overhanging limbs protecting sway

Their tremulous branches to the opposite side,

The quivering, sheeny sunbeams sport and play.

II."And thus upon my heart's undarkened ease,

The fairy charms of pleasure lightly rest.

With throbbing exultation o'er the wind-swept seas,

I always see the golden portals of the blest."

When all the board had heard this there was a moment of silence, interrupted by our special telegram operator breaking into a laugh over an ambitious looking piece of brown paper he had picked up. He began to read:

"There was a sound of deviltry by night,

And in a freshman's room were gathered then

A set of innocents whose heads grew light

With noisy glee in that poor dismal den,

Where cards were dealt with rattling poker chips,

And beer went round with deadly cigarette;

While thus a wassail grew that should eclipse

The previous doings of this venturous set,

Or what all else that '85 had done as yet."

There was more, but it was not read. Marked "rejected, as we can not countenance immorality at Harvard," and besides, '85 has become since then ass-thetic.

Another contributor says, "I send you a few jokes which I hope will prove acceptable." They did. The janitor's wife read them and never came near us again.

Just as we are going to press another letter comes from a prominent initial:

TO THE EDITORS OF THE HERALD: Dear Sirs - The late continued animadversions on my character are as uncalled for as your paper, and as unsatisfactory as my reports. My relations with collegiate persons are purely business, and I cannot afford to cultivate the social amenities in my intercourse with them. I sign my initials,

RASRUBEHT.P. S. - Your college bills, due Jan. 12, still remain unpaid.