Brass Tacks

The following communication was received in the mail early this week. The excellence of both the writer's style and the points made, it was felt, warranted more than the usual letter space. The editors therefore, decided to print the communications under this heading.)

It is a melancholy object to those who walk through the Yard or along the riverbank when they see hundreds of freshman, seraway and suffering from malnutrition, importuning every passerby for a sausage. These students, istead of being able to spend 16 to 18 hours a day on their work, are forced to employ all of their time in roaming Cambridge to beg for a pittance of flesh. Countries ago, in 1729, a similar food shortage gripped Ireland, and Joha than Swift offered a plausible and efficient solution. Unfortunately, civilization was not sufficiently advanced to recognize the wisdom of his plan.

All parties must agree that there is an appalling lack of meat in the Dining Halls, and that there is little relief in sight. Therefore, anyone who can provide a palpable solution should receive some great reward, perhaps an honorary membership in the Student Council.

I have reckoned that of the 5000 odd undergraduates, some 4200 cat in the Dining Halls. Dedducting 300, who, because of illness or cowardice, do not appear, I feel that 3900 daily diners is a fairly accurate estimate. Feeding this multitude on the College's meager meat supply has resulted in a meatless catastrophe, and yet, in the confines of the University itself, there is a solution. I have evolved a plan whereby all undergraduates and a part of the physically handicapped people of Greater Boston can be generously fed.

The biology laboratories of this institution contain some 33,000 well preserved animal specimens, the average weight of a specimen being 8.26 ounces. Using present meat portions in the Dining Halls as the basis for my calculations, I find that there is enough meat in the laboratories for 152,800,000 meals, or a sixty-six year supply. Even after doubling the portions, which would be only humane, there still remains enough meat for a thirty-three year supply. Using this preserved meat is the essence of husbandry. The jars, now freed of their contents, could be melted down and utilized to augment Harvard's famous glass flowers exhibition. Even the formaldehyde not vaporized in cooking the specimens could be substituted for the syrup on the breakfast French toast without creating any particular commotion.

The Hygiene Department may intervene if specimens preserved in methyl alcohol are served in the Dining Halls, since this fluid often causes blindness. Therefore, these alcohol-soaked specimens may be sold to the local institutions for the blind where the inmates would suffer no ill-effects. And thus the University would find another source of income.

Still other advantages are gained. By devouring, the biology specimens, hundreds of square feet of floor space, formerly used to store the preserved animals, will be freed for some worthy project such as a housing development. The University meat supply would become constant and nutritive, and several overworked deans, now in charge of meat procurement, could return to their former jobs as floorwalkers in Widener.

Briefly recapitulating, this plan would solve the meat shortage in the College, help to solve the housing shortage feed the handicapped of Boston, and save countless hours of intense effort on the part of men, women, and deans.

I am offering this plan to the University because I believe it is my duty as an undergraduate to do so. I do not expect the least personal gain since I am fast approaching graduation and have already arranged to take my meals at Bill's Place.