When the graduates at Cincinnati buy the Advocate, as the editors expect them to do, they will not recognize it as the old College paper which they loved--and read. In the Advocate they once looked for lyrics and light stories, nearly always immature, but clever, spirited, promising. The present number means to be useful; and it will be useful if read diligently; refreshing it is not.

The editorial columns, though spiritually without blame, are not thoroughly alive even in treating new problems. They are disfigured, too, by such expressions as "broader leavening function" and "unconsciousably." Mr. Greene's "Harvard and the Nation" makes known much important truth; Professor Wambaugh's excellent exposition in the series called "Choice of a Profession" will scarcely help the Cincinnati delegates,--most of whom are already sentenced for life,--but to a hesitating Senior it may prove invaluable. More than a third of the Advocate is written by members of the Faculty. If the paper is to follow the CRIMSON in pressing the Faculty into service, may it not well remember that in college journalism, what people want is youth, with all its mistakes and all its glory; and that not many people recognize the need of a middle-aged Advocate?

"The Freshman Dormitory Scheme" is a timely and serious discussion which will enlighten the Western delegates if they reach it. "The Great Swamp" is a half breed and Indian story, in general plan like Mr. Lawrence Mott's work, with more accuracy but less picturesquencess and dash. In some passages the sentences are monotonously short. "Gentlemen and Seamen" treats of the old merchant sea-captains in New England and of Salem, the old seaport for trade with the East. The feeling in the article is good; but the imperfect workmanship and the tendency to moralize give the effect of a school composition. "The Friend," a sonnet, though not quite musical and at the end not quite clear, may be called a "lovable" poem for its fine spirit and its unpretentious truth. The other poem, "The West," shows in the rhythm experience and some skill; but "meadowland" and "hinterland" make dubious rhyme, and "hinterland" is dubious English. Such verses, also, as

"At pools where the chill stars

Smiled solace to their scars" show no delicate sense of value in words; nor does the poem leave any distinct impression.

As a whole the number, though inwardly cheerful enough, lacks sparkle. Like most college papers, also, it suffers from want of proof-reading by somebody whose spelling is conservative.