Thirty-four per cent, of Harvard University is engaged in athletic sports. At Yale, though official figures are not available, an unofficial estimate would total about the same--more than thirty per cent. "Not near enough," snaps the advocate of general athletics and a game for every man.

Of course it is not enough. And this leads us to that well-worn subject, a Director of University Athletics.

We all confidently expect a Director. He is the obvious person to have. But a word as to scope of his duties:--

First of all, he must be King. Not only of major sports and their coaches, but also of minor sports, and of the class (or intra-mural sports). The theory of "getting men out" for class teams and coaching them and giving them attention and encouragement is so generally accepted that it has become a platitude. But, for all that, it is still a theory; nobody has actually induced men to come out and coached them yet. The nearest approach was in class swimming and basketball this year--successful but not successful enough. Physical benefits were derived; there was organization; and still something was lacking. There must be one king-pin, one master mind in charge who can direct and administer an unbroken policy even in these smaller leagues. This is the function of the Director of Athletics.

And whence is his authority derived? From the University Faculty. He must be made a member of this body with rank appropriate to the importance of his mission. Note that he is in charge of the physical up-building of not eleven, or nine, or eight men, but of three thousand odd. --Yale News.

Not all visionaries are right, even expert visionaries; but the majority opinion of experts is nearly always, if not exactly wrong, at least a few years behind. And reasonably enough; for the more expert an expert is, the less willing to admit that another expert can be more expert than himself. Doubtless the man who first lit a fire with flints had to do it under the ridicule of experts in lighting fire by the method of the fathers, the rubbing of sticks, who knew that they couldn't light a fire with flints and that consequently no one else could do it; and they doubtless invoked the memory of the ancients as eloquently as do the opponents of the League of Nations.   --New York Times.