HOUSES ON PARADE

Once more the vernal cherry-tree is green in memory; and in this false dawn of spring, Art come creeping to Harvard Square. Janus-faced, she looks both before and behind. Looking ahead with the Surrealists, she surveys the works of the Conqueror Worm, when men in the morgue shall be all but ashes and the halibut on the table shall be all but dust. And harking back with Harkness, she emblazons the cravats of Cambridge with a new heraldry.

In the charnel-house of Surrealism, one stands bare-headed and resigned. Mufiled drums beat, and men murmur, "Oh, why should the spirit of mortal be proud?" But for this newest venture of Harkness heraldry, let Lowell bells ring out and the bird-calls sound forth loud and clear. It is a romantic story, this calling of Harvard men to their colors. One day in January, masters and tutors, in meeting assembled, folded their hands and awaited the moment when the spirit should move them. Then to each there came that inner voice, whispering to men of Dunster, "blue and gold," murmuring to sons of Winthrop "red and white." The colors conceived that day were brought forth only a few days ago by a haberdasher. Himself a knight of the garter, and true kin of the man who created Father's Day to sell more ties, he invoked the spirit of Dunster devotion, of Leverett loyalty, to ring up his cash-register. He had samples made, he set silk-mills a spinning with a three hundred dollar check; and presently his window on the avenue flashed forth its stripes of purple, blue, and green. But alas, this rainbow touched no pot of gold. Many paused to stare but few went in to buy. "Today the window is empty of its pride. The necktie menace has been put down.

But the itch for gay trappings threatens to take more starting form. Blazers are just over the horizon: and once these receive the blessing. Joseph's coat of many colors will indeed become fruitful and infinitely multiply. Heraldie rabbita will cavort on Levereff pajamas; tennis shoes will be tricked out in tri-color; and at length an Eliot man will wear from tip to too the azure and red that proclaim him every inch an elephant.

The soldier hats, the sailoy suits of childhood are laid away, but Harvard's happy children may yet look brave in braid.