GIVE US BACK OUR LEGIONS

It will be interesting to now that the open season for attractive ybung males is on in Boston, whether the deplorable lack of interest in outside activity will limit the number of stags at the Somerset during the long winter evenings. Anxious motherhood may well feel an unusual apprehension in view of the widespread rumor that students are now interested in studies. If Harvard men forsake the ball-room, this last infirmary for noble minds, and refuse to go, marching in close order to answer a maiden's prayer, undergraduate interest in things intellectual will Indeed be permanently confirmed.

But on the other hand, what doth it profit a man if he ignores a piteous Lampoon to fling his wit to the night winds of Boston? And how regrettable the spectacle of him who forsakes the scrimmage beneath the goal posts to plunge headlong into the disorderly crush around the sausage and scrambled eggs. Undeniably it is Harvard's business to make men but whether she is to make them purely for the satisfaction of the daughters of leisure in Back Bay remains to be seen. Husbanding the golden Jane has been deplored since the time of Omar, but it may still be our weakness now. The great army of the unwed which wins its victories by conscientiously filling the stomachs of others may well take heart, for though the Senior may be sitting and thinking, and dreaming of finals to be, the Freshman, far from being warned by his lot, is ever ready to learn from any tidy live heathen that turns up. And while the hardy perennials at Radcliffe seem to be attracting Harvard horticulturists in increasing numbers, there are still many connoisseurs likely to be attracted by the delicate buds of the night-blooming cereus.