The Senior's battles with the Faculty are all but over: one examination is all that can separate him from his degree; the rest of us are still plodding the long, long, trail that may eventually lead to graduation. In this peregrination Class Day is the gate of heaven to the Senior; to the undergraduate it is just a resting place before further struggles.

Class Day, war or no war, is a time for rejoicing. It is the day of reunions, of confetti, of lantern lights, of beautiful girls,--it is, above all, the one day when everyone should be happy. This year's Class Day is going to be far different from Class Days in the past. There will be no impressive Stadium exercises, and out of a class of five hundred only half the Seniors will be on hand. Last year we had a war-time ceremony, but Plattsburg was emptied for the day, the first marshal was on hand, and the day passed almost as in normal times. But the days of Plattsburg Training Camps are over; the Seniors of 1918 are scattered broadcast in the different branches of the service and very few will be present on Tuesday.

It is then up to the lower classes to make Class Day a success. From the Juniors fifty ushers are needed for duty in the Yard, from the Sophomores and Freshmen must come the crowd to fill the Sever stands. It is not much that the Seniors, are asking of us and it is the least we can do to make their departure from College as pleasant as possible. Many of us many never have a chance to see their own class graduate, some of us will never graduate at all, but everyone should make use of the opportunity to see this ceremony. The least we can do for Harvard is to keep the spirit of Class Day alive.