Nothing but duty could keep me in tonight writing this for the edification of those who would of grapefruit make their meal while shredded wheat their dappled waistcoats ill bedecks, for tonight, as they say in detective stories is the night? The night? Yes, the night when the Choral Society from up the line far past the Sargent portals toward the sun does its stuff, parades its pomp, sings, in fact, at the Pops. And to hug a pretzel while the Radcliffe Choral Society makes merry and out jockies Jacchia is something, or more. But duty is duty as the street cleaner told the cop, or more.

Which leads me to memories of an evening recently spent at one of those clubs which make a Boston night quite too awful, did you really go? Well, I tried my best to be friendly with every one and keep on the sidelines, even hoping for a small, size six and a half, B width brawl. But nothing transpired except a gentleman whom I had to drag out of the way of two member of the metropolitan police who thought his the skin they'd love to touch. The music was good. Something had to be. I made Aubrey Beardsley drawings on the table cloth with a gusto possessed recently by the Six and drank ginger beer between cigarettes. I might have for the moment in the dashing delightful and all that sort of thing place one reads about in tabloid newspapers coming home on the subway. I wasn't. It is an axiom that the most devilmaycare gesture allowed one now is to get arrested for drunken driving. And one can't buy a car on the pay from staying in nights writing this sort of thing while the Choral Society correlates.

But to change the subject, or rather to get one I must admit that I do not agree with Heywood Broun when he talks of Harvard admission plans. Speaking of pictures, I saw recently that he himself wants one of Gandle, and if he admits that he doesn't know what the hero of his own book looks like what right has he to talk of what out student body should look like. Of course this defending the underdog is lots of fun. I go in for it once in a while myself. But Harvard has no more need of being completely Semitic than she has of being completely Celtic. Being an American university Harvard must be a synthesis of various types, or better of various individuals--all of which is too well known for me to use here.

When I might be advertising any one of a number of my friends who are really doing things. Take for instance the one who is leading people all around the world that they may become well rounded citizens of Worcester or Back Bay or even New York, or another who is writing books so fast that someone is going to buy one before he knows it, though I don't quite see how. For really I have a lot of faith in human nature. Just when you think that there is no hope and that everything is going wrong, someone does some such positively assinine thing that your faith is completely restored. One can do one of two things, to be dogmatic; he can keep facing the sun until it blinds him; or he can turn around and face the dark with the sunlight making a halo about his head and sell pot boilers to the natives. Well I do not contemplate chronic opthalmy.

No not after all this which I really dare you to read. In the meantime I shall take the stick that I am buying on the instalment plan, my hat which is twice as crumpled as Gautier would have ever dared wear his, and eat ham sandwiches at the Wurzhaus with the swagger of one who has not fooled the public for eighteen inches.