Yesterday afternoon Harvard played its first championship game for the season, and defeated Princeton by a score of nine to three. With this victory each college in the three-cornered league has one game to its credit, with this advantage for Harvard that, whereas both Yale and Princeton have each met one defeat, Harvard's record is, up to this time, clear. As the intercollegiate series now stands, Princeton is practically out of the race, having lost two games and gained but one. Thus our chief opponent is to be, as of old, Yale. We certainly have many reasons for self-congratulation at the result of yesterday's game; yet we must make a determmed fight before we can win the championship. Over confidence is a dangerous quality, and victory is assured by hard work, not by past glory. Harvard's weakest point yesterday was in batting. It was not until the last of the game that out nine at all succeeded in fathoming Princeton's pitching. Yesterday's contest was in fact, distinctly a pitcher's game, and as such, great credit is due Harvard's pitcher whose work, in his first championship game, was very praiseworthy. With one or two exceptions, the impartiality of the audience, in so far as it was composed of Harvard men, deserves commendation. This is a matter about which we cannot be too careful, especially since one of the arguments of those who favor rigid restrictions in intercollegiate athletics is the alleged ungentlemanly conduct of the students during the contests. The base-ball season has thus opened very auspiciously for us, and our only hope is that the present success may continue.

Our thanks as a college are due to the nine whose careful, hard work won yesterday's victory. They must take courage, without too much selfconfidence, and continue as they have begun. We look to them to bring back the championship to Harvard-its proper resting place-and assure them of the hearty support of all Harvard men in their earnest endeavors towards this end.