THE CRIME

The other day, before the rainy season confined us to our rooms, we were walking with a friend on the banks of the Charles. It was about six in the evening, while there was a slight chill in the air, the evening stars were bright, and, if our intellectual almanac does not err, there was a bit of a moon. Dew was on the grass--at any rate, it was wet--and we were in tune with nature. Suddenly we saw ahead of us a couple. They were a plain, stubby couple, but they were arm in arm, and obviously not yet married. Approaching them, we listened for their remarks, with a benign curiosity. As they passed, the following morsel emanated from the lips of the man: "Now animals have fun. They..." The remainder of his speech was lost in the mists of evening.

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A portentous superstition, we are informed, has grown up among the inhabitants of the press box at the football games. The inquiring reporters, alert to everything except the game, have noticed a pecullar circumstance connected with the band's rendition of "Wintergreen for President." Whenever it has been played this year, we are told, Harvard has failed to win the game. It seems a pity to sacrifice the beautiful strains of our traditional college song; but apparently it is that or the victory. The students have their choice.

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VALLANTINE'S DAY

The following is an excerpt from the Dunster House Luncheon Menu for November 8: "On Wednesday evening, November 15, Prof. Edward Vallantine will give a Piano Recital at 7.30. Guests including ladies will be welcome both at the Dinner and the Concert."

There are several things about this announcement that perturb us. It may be, of course, that Mrs. Smith has chosen this quaint and premature method of sending a valentine to Ballantine. It may be that music, as a profession, has been underestimated. The eighteenth century method of capitalization indicates that a Philologist has been meddling. Who knows? At any rate, we hope that none of the guests will really be so coarse as to be found including a lady.