Innovations at the Union have grown to be so frequent that most of them no longer excite comment. But to-day a test is put on "Harvard indifference" that will be hard to face, without flinching. Even the most callous must blanch at the thought--the Union is installing a system of push-buttons and bell-hops!

No longer will the weary student be forced to wait painfully upon himself, no longer will the spacious halls be desecrated by Waldorlian self-service--he has but to touch an ivory button--or is it mother-of-pearl?--and a page will bear to him the article desired, be it a package of chewing-gum, or--bitter-sweet reminder of past glories--lemonade and water! Well may the shades of the Puritan stand agape; well may the Blue Sunday advocates hold forth; the finesse of Greece and the luxury of Rome have descended upon Cambridge.

Starting as the thought is, yet there is comfort in it. The Union has long been striving to uphold its reputation as a club for undergraduates; when, cheerless almost to formidableness, deserted, and forgotten, it determined to begin its life anew, who would have thought such a metamorphosis possible? But it was not only possible,--it has been demonstrated in an undeniable manner. The bell-hops have proven an unanswerable rebuttal.