THE PRODIGAL RETURNED

There are doubtless many members of the class of 1927 who remember standing in line some five months ago, while their advisers explained to disappointed upper classmen that Associate Professor Charles Townsend Copeland was taking his sabbatical leave of absence and would be giving no courses during the ensuing college year. Doubtless some curiosity arose in the minds of these patient souls as to the character and personality of this man, at whose feet all the initiated were apparently so eager to sit. What did he do? What was his peculiar charm? Why this universal disappointment at his withdrawal? Freshmen will have an opportunity to learn these things at Professor Copeland's reading at the Union on Monday.

To attempt to introduce Professor Copeland to members of the three upper classes would be to insult their combined intelligences. All have heard of his celebrated bons mots, and a goodly proportion have probably attended at least one of his "evenings" in Hollis Hall. As well ask a cultivated Londoner if he has ever heard the name of James McNeil Whistler, or a Parisian if he is familiar with the works of Emile Zola. If there breathes a man who has been at Harvard for two years and still does not know of the hermit of Hollis Hall, he should be highly prized, for he is a rare growth. And yet it is difficult to describe Professor Copeland to newcomers; all that can be said is that he is a Harvard institution. To be appreciated he must be seen, and above all heard, at one of his inimitable readings, of which the etiquette, moreover, is as rigid and unyielding as the concrete and mortar of the Union itself.

The experience of past and present generations has shown beyond any chance of doubt that certain things are not done, and that certain other things are always done when Professor Copeland reads. By way of example, the audience will not indulge in the use of tobacco, nor will it amuse itself by opening and shutting windows and letting in cold draughts. The several things which are done will become apparent to the acute observer as the reading progresses," and beyond all else, gentlemen, as you value your lives, do not cough!"