Among the curious phenomena that spring presents to us here at Harvard, there is probably no spectacle more remarkable in itself and in its bearings than the return of the "mucker." When the earth is covered with snow and our puritanical east winds are whistling through the yard, it may be confidently asserted that no one ever sees one of these shaggy-headed sprites wending his way about the college. But with the white blossoms of spring and the first baseball game he somes in all his glory. To be sure some few symptoms of him can be seen generally before this time, in the shape of wild blasphemies around sundry games of marbles in a corner of the yard, but it is not until the spring fairly opens that he is here in force. Then he seems to come all at once with a whoop and a yell. Whence he comes, and whither he goes, no man can tell. Several ingenious theories have been propounded but none of them adequately answer the question. It has been claimed that he is a species of bird that flies away South for the winter and comes back with his race when it becomes warmer. This theory in a most beautiful manner accounts for his semi-miraculous appearances and disappearances, but it leaves quite unanswered several physical and aesthetic problems, which are very obvious to the observer. For instance, how could any true bird of song trill out: "Say, Mister, Gimme

that cigarette, will yer?" or similar remarks such as we have been accustomed to hear form the "mucker." It is manifestly impossible. Another theory that has been offered is that the "mucker" is a sort of gnome or underground sprite, bent on evil. Evidently this is a far more complete theory than the other, although it in turn fails in certain points. The latest theory is that they are a development or manifestation of Spencer's "Unknowable," and this brilliant thought is as yet receiving hearty approval. How long it will be accepted is, of course, another question]

The problem is such a vast one that any speculation on it seems almost in vain. Year by year the College press here has alternately thundered and complained, and the only appreciable result has been that this year, at this early date, the number of "mockers" has grown to be legion. What it will become later at its present rate of increase, is a prospect we shudder to contemplate. Everything except extermination has been recommended hitherto, and we are now emboldened, as a last resort, to offer this remedy as of value for our troubles with the "mucker."

These remarks and this new remedy seem especially timely at present, for we are now facing this "mucker" problem in all its immensity, and we shall continue to face it and groan under our inflections in all probability until the November winds sweep the "mucker" away, unless some such strong measures are adopted.