One Quart of Water and Three Quarts of Sunlight and-

(The Crimson invites all men in the University to submit signed communications of timely interest. It assumes no responsibility, however, for sentiments expressed under this head and reserves the right to exclude any whose publication would be palpably inappropriate.)

To the Editors of the CRIMSON:

The sentiments expressed in the editorial Tuesday entitled "Synthetic Sustenance," show what most certainly should be termed either oversight or ignorance--Heaven forfend the latter--on the part of some members of the Editorial Board. Surely, when it is suggested that a restaurant be inaugurated by the Harvard Dining Association at which tabloid foods shall be dispensed, something out of the distant, or less distant past has been forgotten. Why start a new restaurant? The dining Halls have always favored us with considerable food, the construction of which should meet, with the approval of the most fastidious synthesist; and examples are not difficult to discover. Take scrambled eggs, for instance, Has everyone forgotten the fearfully and wonderfully concocted "scrambles" of Freshmen Hall, and Memorial--yea, immemorial fame?

With sufficient obsequies to Professor Osterhout and the guiding spirits of the Dinning Association the opinion might even be ventured that the Professor's advice had already been obtained upon this salient point, and that he had prescribed a formula for the mixture to be called scrambled eggs, differing but slightly from his staged elements of fats and sugar. There should be sunlight,--yes, because the resulting product is yellow--and water, too. It is hard, though, to believe in the preparation. Without it, then, the recipe might read something like this:

"To one quart of water add three quarts of sunlight, and gradually heat to a low temperature. Season to taste, and serve cold."

The fault, dear CRIMOSN lies not in the eggs, but in the pills, and in their synthesis. EDWARD FLEISCHMANN '20