Dogs are all things to all men. As they are, cur and hound, bitch and pup, Tray and Nero, the names that men apply to them betray the way that men think of them. No name for a dog carries less than the nasty meaning unconsciously given fragrant words like "stink," nor has any animal gained such universal, nay, such high praise. All who learn to read know the foul loathing for the hound which Shakespeare held, the fear and contempt which the beast inspired in the ancients; those who have no knowledge of the creature's filthy ways have idealized it as did Barrle in Wendy's Nana; those who tread in false fear or forbidden paths see a Cerberus in every canine form. But men who own dogs, not for breeding and selling, nor for hunting or house-watching, but for the idle pleasure which the ownership affords, know the pet, not as from Hell, nor yet as Rin-Tin-Tin, but in the full measure of what it is worth. If you would beat and kick your wife, and yet have her love you and fawn upon you, said William Wycherley, get a bitch.

The memory of the undergraduate is short, only four years, if one authority be trusted. Yet there are those who dwell among the pansies and periwinkles, who may remember a High Table only a year since. The President was a guest, and his entrance aroused in the dining hall a hush,--no, never a stare . . . in Lowell House. But soon there was amusement, a litter, and as the President came abreast James Russell Lowell's portrait, a hearty, Teutonic, gut-wrenching laugh exploded. The President heard, turned, and pointed calmly toward the door; Phantom stopped, turned, made gravely for the door, an obedient pet.

And fewer have heard how a student, beyond doubt a graduate student, met the President and his Phantom by the Charles. The student was, as students often are; happy. "How d'ye do, Mr. Lowell," he said, bowing deeply, and then,bowing more deeply with more gravity, "How d'ye do, Mr. Lowell's Dog."

The Vagabond recalls such things, and how Bismarck in his forsaken years had only dogs to love and mourn, how Kipling bid ". . . you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear." Phantom has taken his place among shades. The day is denied its white stone, for one remembers, not CAVE CANEM, but St. Bernard's "Qui Meamat, amet et canem meum."

TODAY

9 O'Clock

"Ethnography of Oceania," Professor Tozzer, Semitic Museum 1.

"The Problem Play," Mr. White, Emerson A.

10 O'Clock

"Spinoza," Dr. Wild, Emerson D.

"Evolution of Spine and Pelvis," Professor Hooton, Semitic Museum 1.

11 O'Clock

"Primitive Family," Professor Zimmerman, Emerson 209.

"The North in War Time," Professor Schlesinger, New Lecture Hall.

"The Brontes," Assistant Professor Maynadier, Sever 11.

12 O'Clock

"The Authority of the State," Professor Hocking, Emerson D.

"Marston," Professor Murray, Harvard 3.

TOMORROW

9 O'Clock

"Newman--Idea of a University," Professor Rollins, Emerson F.

10 O'Clock

"Whitman," Assistant Professor Matthiessen, Harvard 6.

"Chaucer's Canterbury Tales," Dr. Whiting.

11 O'Clock

"Nicholas Rowe," Dr. Noyes, Harvard 3.

"Blake," Assistant Professor Matthiessen, Harvard 6.

"Scandinavian Drama--Ibsen," Professor Murray, Harvard 5.

12 O'Clock

"The Shepherd's Calendar," Assistant Professor Matthiessen. Emerson A.