SELF-PERPETUATION

There are over a thousand Harvard men listed in Who's Who, over six thousand in the University Register, and many thousands more in the Quinquennial Catalogue. But, though these directories are great and voluminous, they are far from being complete. There is only one real Harvard Who's Who, and this one not only contains names but frequently bits of personal history, inscriptions more or less classical, and numerous little touches of individuality.

The directory is found graven, whittled, carved, and scratched on the desks in Sever. Multitudinous are the names it includes and of diverse shapes and characters: names done in Slavic, Greek, Semitic names ranging from the tiny nonpareil to the enormous two line Great Primer or even to the Canon. The owner's personality is revealed by the names, for if his name be whittled in squat fat little letters, then must his soul be squat and fat, and if his name be done in dignified and stately capitals, must his should be dignified and stately.

But names are no; the only handiwork of the industrious scholar. One man, a student of the Greek dramatic poets, has carved a miniature Greek amphitheater, so perfect in detail that even the button for turning on the footlights is seen. Another man, attempting to reconcile the material ugliness about him, has made a bas-relief of a beautiful woman. A Kentuckian once carefully cut out his name, and the next hour another Kentuckian came along and whittled out the first Kentuckian's name to make place for his own. Thereby was a famous fend started.

This humble desire to have one's name perpetuated is very noble, and all the industry, toil, and diligence applied in the whittling very praiseworthy. The melodious drone of the instructor and the sleepy quiet of the drowsy students are strong incentives, perhaps, for all this extra-curriculum work; for, as Sir Thomas Browne once said, "To strenuous minds there is an inquietude in over quietness, and no laboriousness in labor."