The present number of the Advocate has at the outset to face the difficult task of commenting editorially on President Eliot's resignation. It is a task that calls for a reserve of force which the writer lacks. However, though he gesticulates, he says nothing which is not true. In the editorial congratulating last year's editor-in-chief, Mr. Sheldon, on the impending production of his play by Mrs. Fiske, there is also a touch of pomposity. But the congratulations are all the more a propos, now that the press reports and reviews of the opening night are at hand. The Advocate itself is to be felicitated on the success of one more of its sons.

Mr. Cutting's "The Consul's Nightingale" is the best of the stories. His style has backbone, he has an eye for the humorous and the picturesque and a knack for making the reader share his vision. Finally he is content to smile without laughing. Of the "screamingly funny" type, on the contrary, is Mr. Prince's. "In the Days of the Gods," which appears to be a vague and completely bowlderized reminiscence of an episode in the fifteenth book of the Iliad. One's screams, however, are not long prolonged. Of ten august and ancient inspirations, and no happier in itself, is Mr. Storer's "A Chemical Chimaera." It is a weakling hatched beneath the wing of Mr. H. G. Wells. Mr. Roelker's essay on "College Politics" is too rambling in style and thought to be as effective as it might. But his plea for more intelligent interest in politics is one that we might heed with advantage. The anonymous essay "Concerning Those Who Appreciate" is loose and bland and vague. One wants to punch it between the shoulders.

The impression--"essay" is scarcely the right word--of "Free Music" in the Union, on the other hand, is very erect and sprightly and sharp, yet with a word of kindliness and seriousness in the closing paragraph, which takes away any sting that might lurk in its pat and pointed remarks.

As to the poetry, Mr. Nickerson's "Ballad" is pretty in thought and execution. Mr. Bell's "Sonnet" has lost its fifth line somewhere on the way to press--an important line giving the clue to the protagonists of the octave. But even without knowing exactly who or what they are which "amid the darkness shine," one is justified in saying that it is a good piece of verse displaying Mr. Bell's usual facility in handling the sonnet form. "Before Morning" by T. S. E. fails in effect; one is jolted, not impressed. "Marah" by Mr. Pulsifer is better. Mr. Greene's "On a Pearl Shell" is a good thought ill-expressed. If the author of the "Snowshoe Song" can attune his snowshoe steps to the metre of his song, he must be an adept at the sport. A ski on a fair incline could hardly keep pace with it. As a picture, though, of pine forest in winter, it is not without atmosphere provided one shows up the cinematograph. The number is brought to a close by a couple of book reviews