We have no quarrel with our neighbor on Mt. Auburn street. He goes his way and we follow plodding. Any attempt on our part to catch him or his humor, like a projected theft of Thor's thunder,-could hope for no higher fate than drowning in the gloomy dep hs of our own ink-horn. Besides to be funnier than Lampy one must be intensely serious and come out early and often,-in many extras,-and we cannot hope to compete with the "Telegram".

However, there are places by the way, of many kinds. Lampy's ways never deviate from the path of wit. In our humble way we seek the strange, the murky and the obscure, striving to bring it to the white light of undergraduate opinion, distinguished and almost extinguished by the "Gadfly". Success, inspired by those great names which have already contributed to the greatness of the Century Dictionary,-D, E. Fels: Felt G. Hoon; and R. Simulant, seems almost in sight. The does is done. All contributions received will help to perpetrate, and perpetuate, the "Crime".

As for this mooted question of Yale's literary supremacy, a quotation from Lord Dunsany's "King Argimenes and the Unknown Warrior" seems not out of place.

KING ARGIMENES: Why do you come here?

MAN: The King's dog is dead.

KING ARGIMENES AND HIS MEN (savagely and hungrily): Bones!

What further proof is needed of the influence of New Haven on contemporary literature? R. SIMULANT

"Harvard Profs to Play Squash"

-says the N. Y. Tribune While the Squash team, no doubt, plays Beaver.

Our attention is called to the lecture by Doctor Afranio Amaral of the Institute Soroterapico on the "Treatment of Snake-bite". Poughkeepsie and Northampton papers please copy.

A Bird in the Ointment

"Mixed metaphors," a sage declares, "are defensible as long as they show fertility rather than poverty of imagination." No doubt W. L. Geroge is a genius; this masterpiece is from one of his novels; "The cloud that tried to stab their happiness was only a false rumor whose bitter taste could not shatter the radiance nor dim the effervescence of their joy."

Or, as the Dignitary of the Street Railways remarked to an obnoxious passenger: 'You've got to can the lid on that smoking."   D. E. FELS

No, Flowers, Please!

When a paper, long benighted,

To a path of "Crime" is plighted, And a "funny" sign is hung upon the door;

Then there surely is expected One small bow-quite unaffected

Out of deference to bows that came before.

But there's danger in this bowing,

For a stranger, meekly plowing Close behind us, might be tempted-to our fall,

So, our conscience being tender,

We will sit upon the fender

And forbear to rise and risk a bow at all!