June 2! Senior Picnic! June 2!

Now that the Student Council has handed down its decision in favor of tights at the Senior Picnic, the committee announce the completion of the remotest minutiae of business-like preparation. Take out your date-books Seniors, your kodaks Freshmen.

The only day off, which the great laboring class at Harvard University recieves from the generous fin of the Administration, is not far off. Friday, June 2. Scarcely will the mellow ousel have finished fluting in the elm when the corpulent Campaninini of the First Corps Cadets will blare defiance to Terry and all the overbearing horde of monitors. Some pie-pied piper will then draw out in linked sweetness the interminable train of senescent undergraduates from all the better bath-rooms in the Yard. It will be a big time for you, gentle reader,--yes, a very doggy day. Hats and tin cups will be doled out by the Capable Crowd,--a little group of earnest men who have signified their intention of helping in this great work. Also tubas with their individual mouth pieces,--some horn.

After circling around the Yard and accumulating velocity in the most exclusive clubbing centres the party will be trolleyed to the inadequate docking facilities of Boston. Here a floating palace, loaned by a prominent member of the Binnacle Club (who wishes his name withheld) will be awaiting the Happy Picnickers. Boston abaft, the Picnic. Committee will go aloft to explain from a convenient half-hitch in the rat-lines why the Picnic is not to be held conjointly with the Seniors of the Emerson School of Oratory at Fresh Pond, as the Monthly advocates.

All false lines will snap with a loud whang and the fun will be seen to burst forth. Games at tiddletywinks on fly paper have been arranged between the Whistle, the Opera, and the other clubs. At a seasonable time swift blacks will slip wholesome clams amongst the avid throng.

Buy tickets and accident policies at Herrick's, or, more successfully, at Leavitt & Peirce's. Bring your bats and balls and remember that late comers are goners