THE JOURNEY'S END

With representatives of fifty-one classes returning to the Yard, the cosmopolitan activities of Harvard graduates upon whom literally the sun never seis and the unanimity of whose affection for the college conveys a present admonition to the members of the class about to complete their undergraduate work. The feeling of unmixed relief that characterizes the divisional-freed Senior, the desire to be up and away as soon as possible, is metamorphosed by the turning of a year or two into an active regret for the cloister's pale, an immediate concern with the functions of the College, its activities, its winning football teams.

The spirit that summons an alumnus from Europe, Bangkok, or Valparaiso to attend with his class-mates a few days of reunion near the Charles is latent in the man who sleeps obviously through the exercises heralding his farewell to Harvard, latent but almost never nonexistent. The very man who attempted through ennui to turn over a Brighton street car the night his Spread dance is found in the forefront of his class five years later hurling confetti at the Stadium jumping pits. The ritual of departure, prolonged as it may seem to the Senior, is the creation of men who have realized its too actual brevity when reviewed later by a graduate nostalgic from bond-selling or cupon-clipping.

Commencement Week belongs more to the future than it does to the present. Throughout its duration, the Yard is peopled with the memories of three generations of Harvard men. The contrast of ages, emotions, and purposes supplies an appropriately mingled background for the occasion.