The Crime

Harvard 2 has been the scene of much that is beautiful in student-teacher relationships. Generations of pupils have sat in simple humility while the glittering jewels of knowledge were kindly, simply offered by great men. This relationship has been a process of mutual give-and-take; the student, straining in attention, lends his ears, while the lecturer spends freely of his hard-earned store. Now that the sanctity of our three hundred years lies officially upon us, now that the day of the greats is fast drawing to a close, this relationship may truly be said to have ripened into a mellow reality.

Yesterday into historic Harvard 2 the professor strode with formal, graceful steps. No hat or coat marred the trim lines of his figure; his neat tie, neat shirt, neat suit were the envy of his students.

Creasing his checks the familiar professorial smile was smiled, and in disarming kindly tone he asked if one of his pupils had read a speech of Patrick Henry's, assigned in a book of documents compiled by the professor and nicely bound by the Oxford Press at a price suitable for a work by a great scholar.

The first student, and also the next four, regretfully admitted that they had not read the speech.

The professorial smile appeared again, and in his kindly benevolent way the professor informed his class, "Gentlemen I see no purpose in lecturing if the reading has not been done. Good Morning". With the fresh flower in his buttonhole appropriately rufiled, Samuel Eliot Morison, Ph.D., M.A., Lit. D., Professor of History and Official Historian to the University retired for the day.