"WINTERGREEN"

Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast, and the Harvard Band has excelled in its savage-soothing this fall. From the drop of the hat at the Bates game, they have consistently outfought their opposition, formed more and bigger letters on the field, and completely hypnotized the audience with their symphonic renderings. New uniforms of surpassing beauty have been obtained, the drum major has dropped his baton but a single time, and excepting the persistent bashfulness of the big drum between the halves, the job has been exceptionally well done.

Today the band has set itself the goal of breaking all records for number of letters formed at one game. A kind of alpha-soup will flow over the field from the end of the second period until the abashed Eli bandsmen step forth to show their wares, and such of Harvard's ten thousand as can see the field will feel a glow of pride as the intricate designs snap open and shut.

Credit for the success of the band is due in a large degree to two men, to Franklin Anderson, director, orchestrator, and baton-waver extraordinary, and to director Guy Slade in whose nightmares must course new schemes for dotting an i amid endless streams of running bandsmen. To these men, and to the members of the band for the interest they have shown, and for the work they have expended, Harvard extends her thanks.