Strictly Speaking

A puzzled Dunster commuter has an interesting problem. He asks, "During a Leap Year is the extra day a day of vacation or another day of classes? Would someone please put an end to this tormenting problem." It would probably be safer if another day of classes were scheduled.

An alumnus sent in a clipping of an advertisement last week. It read, "WANTED--Capable young American with college training for milk route salesman; state experience and qualifications; must furnish A-1 references and large bond."

The alumnus comments, "Ah ha, so this is the honorable and exalted calling to which our college boys are going nowadays. Let them show their supreme erudition in their manner of approach to our doorsteps on sleepy mornings. Let their footsteps ever be light and their horses well behaved." It might be added, "perhaps this is only a part-time job for a graduate student."

With the near approach of the Tercentenary and the almost hourly use of the word in faculty circles, one thorny problem arises. It appears that the director of the Tercentenary, when speaking of the celebration which he is planing, always refers to it as the tur-sen-te-na-ri, with the accent on the "sen," the "te" being pronounced as in "ten."

On the other hand the official historian of the celebration when speaking of the anniversary always refers to it as the tur-sen-te-na-ri, with the accent on the "te," the "e" being pronounced as in "event." It's all a question of penults and ante-penults, and according to the latest Webster's the former is correct as to the accent, the latter as to the pronunciation of the "te."

It looked for awhile as if we had something on President Roosevelt; he was scheduled to take a degree at Temple University, Philadelphia, on Saturday afternoon, February 22, then attend the Fly Club dinner that evening. It turns out that he gets the degree in the morning, a special through-routed train making Cambridge by evening.