Thoring Thong

In Winter when the snow is on the ground,

The poet's sap is low, his spirits drag;

Our Harvard warbler makes a rhyming sound

But cannot for his life think up a gag.

But when at last the birds begin to sing.

And every songster calls unto his mate,

"Up! up!" he cries, "I'll gush a song to Spring!"

And lisps his lines to Mother Advocate:

Lo! Thpring hath come, ath everybody theeth!

The robbin thkip-th and thing-th among the grathth,

The thquirrel thit-th and thqueek-th up in tile treeth,

The thun ith warm, ath ith my thunny lathth.

She thqueetheth my hand,

I gathp with delight:

"A kithth!" I demand,

She whithper-th "Aw-wight!"

O for a Farm Yard!

The proposed Agricultural College might bring a rural touch and a sweet domesticity heretofore lacking in the Yard. Sheep might graze before Holworthy to keep the grass down and gambol with the students between classes. Nanny goats could glean a comfortable existence from the partly used but still wholesome cigarettes in front of Sever. There could be a dairy under University Hall, restoring as best it could the ancient beer garden. And of a spring evening, when the horses had been driven into Fogg Museum, and the geese safely crowded into Appleton, one might hear the lilting songs of plowboys coming home early from Soldiers Field. That were pastoral felicity! But alas! to he awakened at four in the morning by the cackle of hens in the all too appropriate Lampoon Building--that would be a sad aftermath of a perfect day in rural Cambridge!

O How She Lied!

Said a "goody", when asked by her kin

Why on earth she was looking so thin,

"My boys are so cruel

I have to drink gruel,

For all of them lock up their gin."

Clean Sport for the Laundries

The Monday morning Laundry Bag Sweepstakes was won this week by Sing Sang Sung, formerly of East Somerville. The local boy managed to abscond with all the laundry bags in Randolph, thus setting a new interdormitory record. On the fifth landing he gained a certain victory by throwing the remaining bags out of the window to a team-mate below. These weekly competitions of the laundries are limited to no sect or nationality, and are run on a pure sporting basis. By tacit agreement the laundry bags are the lawful prize of the first comer. When the scramble through the entries begins, early of a Monday morning, somehow one feels that wherever his little laundry bag may be going, some kind laundry man will be good to it.

One of, the great social functions in Washington last week was the dinner given by the two Bryans to Vice-President Dawes. It must have been a jolly party, with Charles W. predicting a Democratic victory in 1928, with W. J. drinking a fundamentalist toast in grape juice, and with Dawes having to curb his genius in face of the greatest justification in his career for inventing a new "cuss" word.

Boston Herald headline: "Wed 46 Years, Have 12 Children: Ask Divorce." No doubt, a simple sangeresque statement of cause and effect

Boston Transcript: "Maiden' musician charges that she was shocked while raising the telephone and sues the company for $25,000." Attorneys for the defense want to know; (A) Who was at the other end of the wire? (B) Will she divide even with him?