Every spring the young man's fancy lightly turns to throwing paper, matches, and electric light bulbs out the window. As the game progresses details are added. Trying to break the lights on the opposite side of the Oval with a piece of kindling wood or a bottle is an absorbing pastime. It is a huge joke on the janitors. If one can drop a chair on a campus policeman it counts six, a chair and a book-case eight, and the joke is on the policeman. Setting fire to the round-house wins the game. Thus all the teeming youth, the splendid young manhood of the Freshman class is liberated. The silly season, as it has been called, is on.

Were riots merely absurd they would cause no great concern, but unfortunately they are alarmingly dangerous things. They begin in nothings and spread rapidly to unrestrainable proportions. That last year's disturbance did not lead to serious accidents or to deaths was entirely a matter of good fortune nor is this an exaggerated statement. And it did terminate in a great expense, in a great deal of hard feeling, and in serious consequences for the offenders. The Freshmen of course have no memory of that nor of the great riot several years ago and the impossible situation which it created, and they clearly do not realize what harm may result from a super-abundance of energy carelessly applied. So far the record of 1927 has been extremely good all in all, but the authorities cannot afford a recurrence of previous situations, and any tendency towards another riot will be sternly suppressed and the offenders treated with the utmost severity. 1927 could establish no more worthy tradition than that of avoiding all appearance of riots and of making large scale disturbances in the Oval henceforth entirely out of order. The Yale Daily News.