Harvard Students Brave Parietal Regulations Out of Countenance With Bewildering Zoological Exhibitions

Harvard men may be indifferent, but their pets are certainly far from that. From a white rabbit to a goldfish, from a little dog to an owl, they live their different lives under the guidance of their Crimson caretakers.

Probably the most amusing to watch is the white rabbit owned by a Sophomore in one of the Gold Coast dormitories. He spends his days sleeping in a box in the corner; his nights are occupied in disturbing his owners while they try to sleep. In the evenings he gambols over the green in front of Russell Annex, being guarded by an horde of onlookers; and in the mornings he is just in the way.

At the other end of the scale swim the goldfish. There are all types and varieties: cheap, ten cent fish, which do little else than swim lazily about in bowls; and expensive, showy, magnificent, beautifully plumed aquatic residents, which spend their time exhibiting class and breeding. Yet all are subject to more or less the same treatment at one time or another, whether they serve as the unsuspecting targets for the gibes of a cruel audience, or are just forgotten for a week by their feeders.

In the rest of the Harvard menagerie, the nips of a playful little terrier, the remarks of a parrot, and the hoots of two owls have their own select circles of admirers; so none are ever completely overlooked, even in the greatest of confusions.