Freshman, by this time you are outside the first line of breakers. You have found out which building is the Widener Library. You have discovered that you are not required to put on a green tie, lettered "twenty-six," whenever you cross Massachusetts avenue and that you can wear brown socks, black socks, or no socks, as you choose, and no one will very much care. Probably last year's occupant of your room in Standish has dropped in to sell you the radiator he left there last June.

Most of all, you have been larded and seasoned with advice, from Alphabets to Underwear. You have been told to go out for football as the only way to "get to know your class," or not to go out for football, as taking too much time away from "getting to know your class." You have been given advice high and 'low, from your friends and from the "Lampoon" and more of it looms up ahead of you.

At this point, a word in your ear, notwithstanding howls from the Jester and other serious-minded folk. "No individual who does anything worth doing, and does it with all his might, need be lost in the crowd at Harvard; and, taken for all in all, Harvard is the best place I know for the individual youth." And the word comes from the undergraduates' best friend, Dean Briggs. Accomplish something, then, remembering that what you get will be measured in terms of what you give.

Such is the prescription. Yet there always have been and always will be many to patronize substitutes. For them the teacher is experience. And while they are learning, they are wasting time for themselves and for the University.

Freshman, you are the doctor in your own case.