The "toast" offered John Harvard by the undergraduate correspondent of the Yale Alumni Weekly is of that variety known hereabouts as thin and well buttered. Its details are sadistic, its bases dadaistic: and the impression left after reading it is that of a blue hangover, a bleak Monday morning in New Haven. Nevertheless it is amusing, just as many slightly idiotic things are amusing.

One could retaliate with bitter jibes directed either at the morose undergraduate author or at the Alumni publication which would print such fiction. But after all this is merely another of those merry occasions which gather such enviable publicity for two great universities, and even an avid press might eventually weary of petty bickerings, founded on untruths. One might question the point or the intended moral of such noble statements as. "In New Haven one is often on the same terms with one's janitor as with one's rooms-mate." And one might try for hours to decipher the meaning of such a magnificent collection of words as "the substance of the spirit of revelry rampant." The results, however, of all these diversions could scarecly be worth the efforts required. No one over attempted to rationalize Jabber wocky.

There is no adequate reason why any one should undertake to refute the Yale Weekly's article. Those who are members or graduates of the University will realize that as a faithful picture of Harvard life it is even funnier than Metro-Goldwyn's tribute. And those who are neither members nor graduates nor friends will derive extraordinary delight from the Macfadden-like revelations of this particular example of "intrinsic vigor and communal health."