A KISS FOR CINDERELLA

Under the dim lights of the New Lecture Hall this evening there will be a pageant of the nations, not that gala event which blesses the sawdust ring, but the more serious conception of international pageantry produced under the direction of Phillips Brooks House. The Harvard Model League, of all the 20,000 in the country, is said to be the best, but even so, one wonders. Just like the real league in Geneva, they say, so splendid to arouse interest in international affairs, and at the same time it teaches how the diplomatic machinery works. Of course, there is always the smiling Mr. Gilbert's Erector, too.

Perhaps it is only because of a Sunday-school training, but there is always something suspicious about models. They are ever either too good, or. . . The most careful scrutiny of the Government I notes does not reveal the reason for the inclusion in the Harvard League of a plutocratic United States and communistic Russia. When one remembers this, and hears the midnight oily speeches of the delegations, trimmed up with their little flags, so like a church convention, it is not easy to perish the thought that the League may, at Harvard, be only a kiss for Cinderella. Still, it is pleasant to see the delegate from Siam make a salaum to the gentleman from Azerbaijan. . . In the crimson simplicity of the New Lecture Hall.