The correspondence on the subject of class crew management which has appeared in today's and yesterday's communication column is anything but a wise form of handling college affairs. The object with which the first letter was written was undoubtedly to bring forward what seemed to the writer a practical suggestion which ought to be considered. Wholly without intending it, he so phrased the letter, that several crew managers, including at least one graduate, felt that the communication implied dishonesty on their part. Of course such a motion is somewhat absurd, and those concerned probably realize it by this time. It also appears that the suggestion as to purchasing shells is not a new one. The management have considered it before, and have good practical reasons for setting it aside.

We have gone thus into detail, not because the matter deserves so much attention in itself, but because it gives a fair example of a kind of letter-writing which can do no good, and may do more or less harm. Properly used the communication column is a reasonably useful institution, but at times it threatens to become an unmitigated nuisance. We have tried to open that column to all who want to use it, but we do not wish to place its space at the disposal of men who try to deal with persons in authority and do not see fit to go to headquarters.

So if the baths in the Gymnasium do not suit you, kindly go to Dr. Sargent. If you want dryer paths in the yard, go to the head janitor, and if he can't help you he will send you to some one who can. And above all, if you don't like the way the crew or the eleven, or the nine is run, go to the captain or the manager, and talk to him. He is perfectly capable of treating you politely, and when you have found out a thing or two from him, you may be willing to withdraw your suggestion. On the other hand, if it is sensible, your idea will be well received. In short, if you really want to accomplish anything, go about it quietly. A little less random reform, please, gentlemen.