Now that the nights are balmy the call of the open spaces sounds more clear. But the nights of canoes and the Faculty Song are also the nights before finals.

Our vernal outburst having left us, we hasten to put forward the sere and practical message of our hearts. It is, simply, that there would be more time for the honeysuckle if there were more copies of reserve books in the Library. Do these seem unrelated? Not to him who, as a Sophomore, has beaten his wings in a void in vain, hoping to read optional books for Buzzer's History; who, as Junior, has known for his worst enemies those grad students who are also interested in Romantic poetry; who, when all should be feasting and fun and senior singing, trails dismally from Seminary to Seminary, and finds at last, broken, that the only copy has been taken away by a Prof. --Princetonian