Beer has come in, quietly and calmly, to the delight of its protagonists; the calamity howlers are confounded, and hoist by their own petard; an emasculated Bacchus reigns in the Hub. This lack of the predicted drunkenness has been touted in the papers and by the people; but the fact that the advent of beer was attended by every conceivable trouble save that rather pleasant one of inebriety has been generally glossed over. The control measure itself was passed at the last minute, after the legislators, doddering cheerfully along in pursuit of such problems as the feasibility of serving beer withing 400 feet of a church, had wasted a maximum of time and had thrown the press and populace into confusion. When the bill appeared finally, it was found to contain such elfin provisions as that forbidding beer drinking in a standing position; beer arrived, but sorely hampered.

Unfortunately, the tradesmen of Boston took over the problem where the law-givers had ceased, handling it with approximately the same acumen. Near beer was sold to trusting customers, who believed they were actually quenching their alcoholic thirsts; a barrel of the beverage was, and is sold by the glass at a hundred per cent profit. While the tax imposed is high, the profits reaped by retailers and brewers are higher, and the people, willing to pay any sum at first, are bearing the burden.

The general outlook presented by the beer situation is that of a distinct blot, with few highlights. Harvard is directly affected by the clause forbidding sale to minors, which only constrains large institutions who do not need it, and which will be avoided completely by those to whom it should apply; but the state at large is touched by the whole affair. It is an example of the sort of precipitate absurdity which has for years furnished Mr. Mencken with subjects for his articles, and which has created all the connotations which attach to the word, "America."