Prior to that recent graduation that was so well reported in the Transcript, Miss Lord, the guiding genius of the Winsor School, Boston's premier debutante hothouse, assembled her departing belles in solemn conclave. It was a solemn conclave, for news had come that the Eliot House boys, being what they are, had planned to buy up the coming issue of the Winsor Class Book and frame the pictures of the girls therein contained.

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"Now, please girls, one thing I must Insist upon; you must be particularly careful not to make any montion of this book to any Crimson man after that horrld publicity they spread around about that foolish hockey game last fall," said she primly.

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But the Winsor lassies, with their New England blood blazing at this tyrannous attempt to muzzie the press, craftly managed to let the true virtues of their little leaflet be known. In this almost suppressed publication the intimate details of next year's highly-publicized, much-feted, social gorgons are revealed.

Like the Red Book it begins with a rogue's gallery with pert and pungent little quips beside the velvet-draped likeness and a list of activities such as "Badminton, Hospitality Committee, Member of Class VIII Judicial Board, Associate Justice, and Track Team."

For the benefit of the College at large, and for the especial pleasure of Eliot House, the Crimson herewith presents four extracts from the classbook showing the buds own conceptions of their classmates--

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The Strong of Will: When you see a long figure apparently made of India rubber, and possessed of slightly Katherine Hepburnish tendencies loping easily down the corridor, then you know that the great Pooh Bah of Winsor has passed by . . .Hor favorite garment: an undershirt: probable future occupation: mother of ton.

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The Strong of Arm: **** is our strong right foot, particularly in soccer. Her healthy red-cheeks make us all envious.

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The it girl: **** is not only the cream in our coffee, she is also the kick in our cocktall. She has acutely up to the minute clothes and a stream-line figure upon which to hang them. Favorite garment: ankle strap: occupation: prom trotter.

The So-Nice Girl: **** is an outdoor girl, although she is no less adopt on the dance floor than on a pair of skle. Her great love of people carries her enthusiasm for friendship around the class because as soon no she makes one friend she goes after another. To us she is a ray of sunshine on a blue Monday. Future occupation: patroness.

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Following this is a 27 line history of the class, starting with the modest promise that they--the Winsor girls, don't "feel that our history is anything starting or brilliant in its originality". For two years all seems to have gone nicely until in class III a few of the more daring spirits began to climb upon the ventilators. The next year matters went from bad to worse and they are frank to admit that "the whole class acemed to have awallowed a dexil." This was the year when "we piled all the chairs on our oaks and then dashed them all off again--just to hear the crashing and when we indulged in "splendid no-handed bannister sliding. These were indeed the days of our youth."

From that, era when "we think we were really steeped in sin," It was but a short time until "the shadow of the college boards cropt among us and the college group began to sink on its flat heels"

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The class is unable to boar the weight of this scholastic burdon for long--and from here its history rushes to the end, finishing inspite of this ugly Intrusion with the coy faminine giggle--"we leave the school choolt full of our youthful arrogance and know-it-all, and we fool ourselves to be the best yet. Just wait . . . ."