CLASS DAY ONCE AGAIN.

It is too good to believe that Class Day is with us again, the same old rollicking reunion of many pre-war season. Downed for a time by the exigencies of war-time, "it comes up smiling" quite as expansively as of yore, and many are the prophets among the returning "grads" who declare that the jollity of the occasion will smash all previous records to atoms.

Spreads, confetti, band stands, reunions, outings, all are ready to burst forth as riotous adjuncts to the day's fun. Rumor has it that the Ivy Orator is in record-breaking form, and, while rehearsing his effusion on lonely golf-courses, far from the ear of mortal man, has even himself been rocked by unholy glee. The Glee Club, too, is reported to be in fighting trim, and straining at the leash for the evening's operations on the moonlit steps of Widener. Spreads will be spread thick in every nook and cranny of the Yard, and many will be the rows and festoons of Japanese lanterns, which will extend the joys of the holiday far into the night. Even the weather man is on our side, an occasion rare in old New England. Surely this will be a Class Day of the real old-fashioned variety, long to be remembered by all who celebrate and reunite today as a hugely successful revival of what Harvard men have never ceased to regard as the greatest day of all the year.