A few days ago while kicking around under the sanctum desk for the subject of an editorial, the waste-basket was accidentally overturned. The exchange editor reached over among the litter and drew out some MSS. which, after some consideration and pleading on his part, we have decided to present to the public. Communications were very prevalent of course. The first one we happened to pick out read as follows:

"EDITORS HERALD: Why can't we have a crossing between the west end of the Memorial Hall delta and and the opposite side of the street, by the entrance to Holmes' Field? A man coming from the gymnasium has to wade through mud and slush without hope. One of the college's gasoline beacons would also be an acceptable addition to this place. Yours,

ATHLETE."A good point, but the college is very poor and can't help you.

The next ran as follows:

"DEAR EDITORS HERALD: The ventilation in my recitation room is horrible, and - "

Ruled out, together with the beech-tree and Memorial Hall board questions.

Then came a plaintive epistle:

"DEAR HERALD EDITORS: In spite of all that you have so kindly said about ventilation in general and the Freshman Chemistry in particular, we freshmen still suffer very much from the foul odors engendered in experiments. - (I looked up the word in the dictionary, it's all right). Now, mother says I am looking quite badly, and father says I smell like a barkeeper, and my cousin Mary says I am horrid, so that she has to use her smelling-bottle. And . . ." [Here we cut out some affecting lamentations.] "Help us ere we dye. Very sincerely yours,

J. FRESH."Ah, Johnny, we can do nothing more for you. Editorials are of no avail.

There were a few dozen more remaining from our last bonfire, but we shall omit them and go on to another subject, - poetry. It seems that our few bits of verse have tempted the rhymsters to a considerable extent, and we are only sorry that their poetical efforts had not been confined to writing senior class songs. One contributor sends in "A Miss," as a complement to "A Kiss," in a late number:

"A front door dark,

A trite remark,

A dim-lit face up-turning.

Head bending apt,

Face smartly slapped,