THE BEER QUESTION.

"Let us confess our sanction of drunkenness, indecency, lying, disrespectfulness and thieving," writes one correspondent, apropos of the "Beer, Movies, Cigarettes" advertised on the posters of the Sophomore banquet. On the other side, another tells us that "beer . . . changes the yelping minstrel into Caruso," and claims that it is "the only thing that makes a meeting go." Both of these writers are intolerant, and each runs to ridiculous extremes.

Perhaps beer is the source of all the sins on earth; perhaps, on the other hand, it is the divinest of nectars. The CRIMSON is hardly self-righteous enough to arbitrate the question. Class dinners, it is true, have not been spotless, and perhaps are not yet so. But the morale of such functions is constantly improving, and there is no reason to fear that this year will mark a relapse into the orgies of a decade ago. The man so weak-kneed that he cannot refrain from undue excesses is more frowned on and less popular than he used to be. Whether in the face of constant improvement strict prohibition is advisable, is an open question. The earnestness of those who are condemning beer, however, and their apparent numerical strength, recommends the matter to the Sophomore class for careful consideration.