An elaborate and humorous plan for a new kind of Freshman reception is outlined in the fourth English A theme on "My Reactions to My Reception at Harvard" to be published by the CRIMSON.

The writer, a citizen of the South, dwells at length with the trials imposed upon the Freshmen by those gentlemen who express concern about the condition of the clothing worn by 1929.

The attitude of upperclassmen, and the traditional Harvard indifference, seem to have affected him little, although in the closing paragraph he comments on the deeper effects the University has made upon him. The theme follows:

"Webster defines a reaction primarily as 'the force which a body opposes to a force acting upon it.' According to this definition, I have experienced no reactions to my reception at Harvard, for I certainly have not offered any opposition to the great Crimson force which has swept me along in its wide current, just as the turbulent mountain torrent whirls the tender sapling which has fallen into its power along the precipitous and oft-times fatal course.

"Dazed and breathless, I have been bruised and shocked, knocked down and run over by this fact, by that revelation, or by some astounding truth which I had not previously encountered in my brief span of years. Still I offered no opposition; in most cases, I merely picked myself up, brushed the dust from my coat, and set but to find new adventures, hopeful, unquestioning, perhaps the least bit daring.

Was "Bawn in Kaintuckeee"

"However, now that I have gradually lulled my mind into a some what reminiscent mood, I do recall incidents which have come close to kindling the spark of revolt in my breast, because, you know, I was 'bawn in Kaintuckee and cawn-fed in Alabamy', and the Mason-Dixon line having always possessed for me the proportions of a veritable wall of China, I was prepared to be intensely critical, vibrantly sensitive, and susceptible to every influence brought to bear on me at Harvard. How faithfully I have fulfilled this vow remains to be seen.

"First of all, I received a shock during the first few minutes after my arrival in Cambridge which came near upsetting all my calculations. Rushing up out of the 'pill box', all on fire with ambition, and the antennae of my mind sharpened by a whole summer's curiosity, alert to the point, of pain, I was on the point of dashing across the square and throwing myself into the conflict when--whiz!--a Ford shot around the corner and, hitting a poor pedestrian not five feet from me, dragged him out of sight.

Where Fords Are Battering Rams

Instantly, the fires of ambition died, and after running the gauntlet across Harvard Square and finding no bones broken, I considered the afternoon's work sufficient. Heaving a sigh for the great open streets of Louisville where Fords are Fords, not battering rams, and freshmen are not prospective hospital patients, I began the annual freshman quest--compared to which Sir Lancelot's search for the Holy Grail was without hardships--for enough sheets, blankets, dowels, soap, and divers other necessities of life which I had heretofore imagined inseparable from every bedroom and bathroom to make life livable until the long-promised and long-awaited trunk appeared on the scene.

Domesticated by Coop

"In truth, Harvard has thoroughly domesticated me. Should I ever have the slightest desire to entangle myself in the, ties of matrimony, the terrors of housekeeping will not bother me. I shall order a few rubberneck lamps, a six-by-three Harvard pennant, a Harvard shield, several more or less ornate rugs, a framed copy of Kipling's 'If," a desk pad, and other absolutely requisite articles of decoration obtainable at the "Coop," all surrounded with the enticing lure of a tenpercent rebate, and my difficulties will be solved. Such are the advantages of living in this modern ago!

Showered With Advice

"Now, seriously, although our Deans and Proctors and Faculty Advisors, with the assistance of editorial art and sareasm, have, no doubt, tried to do everything in their, power to aid the Freshmen, and have showered us continually with brickbats of advice, I feel that several opportunities have been neglected. Not that I want to criticize: as yet I have felt no ill effects from the punch served at the Union's Freshman Reception, nor have I encountered any antediluvian phenomena since the jovial Phillips Brooks House reception. Still I feel sure that if Dean Whitney had for two long weeks, day and night, been submitted to the none too tender mercies of those pertinacious individuals who swarm around the Freshman dormitories with pressing contracts from 'The Varmint' and "The Varlet,' he would either give the innocent victims some advice on how to avoid them, or, realizing the futility of doing this, he should adopt some plan whereby our suffering, if not eliminated, would be shortened.

I submit the following idea; if he accepts it, I request that I be notified immediately, in order that I might make arrangements to go elsewhere next fall.