Nov. 5. I think I have determined one of the fundamental causes of Harvard's great failure as a training place for the higher intellectual freedom; it is the nearness of Cambridge to Boston, --an overwhelming fact--which impressed me, as I sat in the subway train reading the list of stations: Harvard, Central, Kendall, Park (Westbound read up; Eastbound read down; and if you aren't bound, anywhere, just ignore it).

It is so easy to slip, a mercury-coated cent into the fare-box,--I spent one afternoon in the Physics laboratory preparing in this way some pennies I had found by tapping a slot machine,--and once past the guard the whole rotten metropolitan life of Boston is only eight minutes away.

With this evil distraction ever-present how can the eager student obtain the seclusion essential to great, solitary minds? To test out my theory, I went to the Copley Plaza this evening where Boston's social life centres in all its worst aspects. I had determined to show my complete unconsciousness of all that stupidity of convention which these people affect. I wore my usual quiet air of assurance and my customary yellow flannel shirt (I should have preferred my other one,--which is more appropriately black,--but that I left at the Comrades' headquarters in New York) which I leave independently unbuttoned at the throat. Of course, I never use the affectation of a hat.

As I made my way into the main lobby of the hotel, I decided that the surest way to force people of this sort to feel my contempt was to use the place just as they do, in their absurd dress suits. Accordingly, I edged through the crowd gathered in the lobby to a man in uniform standing in their midst, evidently one of the higher flunkeys. When I reached him, I said in a clear, careful voice, "Call me a bell-boy."

He looked me over, insolently I felt, and replied, "I'll call you anything you wish, my lad, but I can see you aren't one you know."

The ignominy of it! The whole crowd roared with laughter and someone turned to the flunkey and said, "Initiation." Then he too laughed in my face. I could have killed him! I was told later that he was a British naval captain being given a dinner by the Chamber of Commerce. The capitalistic parasite! When I heard that, I could have made him smart, exposed him before the crowd. But nobody seemed to take any further notice of me, try though I would to attract attention. Fools!

I revenged myself by going to the writing room and making out a list of suicide notes, which I distributed about the hotel. They will lead the hired police of this city a weary chase when they are found!

THIS ADVERTISING FREEDOM (Free lather, free cuts, free verse)

No slaving at shaving,--Such habit depraving,--Not for me. A full beard and flowing On my chin is growing Plain to see.

But that craving for saving And the way I'm behaving Won't agree. Now a razor I'm using, My chaste chin abusing, --It was free. STAGYRITUS

Last week we noted with gratified pride that the Yale Seniors had voted Harvard the "next best college," and, in our limited way, we returned the compliment. But that, it turns out, was only the academic half of it. Now the scientific seniors, the Sheff, boys, have held their election and Harvard just isn't in the running. We take back everything good we ever said about New Haven. What can you expect from a class of men who will vote "Business Law", their favorite course, anyhow?