The library officials request an editorial censuring the gentlemen of Harvard who, on these cold winter nights are wont to assemble around the tables in the Main Reading Room and pass the time in the delights of conversation and disputation. Referring to the records of this column we discover that during the last three years a similar request has come from Widener at exactly this time of year. That would lead us to assume that there is something in the nature of the student which makes him react to the depressing influence of impending examinations by exercising his right to fellowship in the Reading Room.

What do they talk about--these sometimes subdued oftener hilarious groups? One might suppose about matters of the intellect--particularly in objection to the theories in the books which they spread before them. But as a matter of fact the unwilling listener is seldom overborne by the weight of this "table-talk"--he rather experiences the same feeling as he derives from overhearing in a Subway train two young supporters of Mayor Curley repeat to each other with variations the theme. "Gee, but I was drunk last night." Not that Widener conversation deals particularly with exploits in dissipation. It is only the tone that is similar.

"Didja have good vacation?"

"Yea, swell. Party every night."

"Where were you, Jim?"

"Great time in St. Louis--Gee, you orter see the women out there!"

"Where were you, Jim?" (Louder.)

"Ja meet a girl out there--what's her name Bobby--"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll say I did. Don't start me talking about her.--Boy, some baby!"

"Hey, Jim, where were you this vacation?"

"She's got some--what--oh, you talking to me?--I was in Troy."

"Didja have a good vacation?"

"Yeah, yeah, party every night."

But enough of this. It indicates the conclusion towards which we have been impelled. The fault lies not in ourselves but in the vacations that we must talk.