Boston has maintained through the years the reputation of the purest city of its size in the Republic. Many years ago Mr. H. L. Mencken, then enjoying a prophet's repute, found his "American Mercury" suppressed because of an article which offended the tender nostrils of the Hub. A little later, Mr. Eugene O'Neill, the American dramatic laureate, found his "Strange Interlude" banned to the purlieus of Quincy because the Back Bay would have no dealings with incest. And within the memory of the current college generation of the Morals Squad of the peerless. Boston Constabulary found it necessary to confincate certain literary works from lending libraries on the ground of offensive lecherousness.

But Boston, serves as it is with manufactures who presume to flaunt sin before the faces of respectable people, maintains a solidly sensible position, the position at the Gay Nineties, that incredible age which refused to recognize the existence of a lady's by on the main through fare, but which maintained a segregated district running full blast in a back alley . While the City Censor, in his wisdom, refuses to allow the slightest bit of lascivious titillation from the stages of the uptown theatres, the citizen with an incurably low-down taste may still pander to his lower instincts by slipping furtively down to the Old Howard Athenaeum (take subway to Scollay Square, walk down to Howard Street.)

For the Old Howard offers nightly Burlesque with a huge and lecherous capital B. The strip routine, the double entendre, the drooling septuagenarians in the first six rows, the general aroma of sweat and tobacco spit, would put the best efforts of the New York entrepreneurs to shame.

The CRIMSON lauds this toleration on the part of the old city. Psychologists and sociologists of the modern school unite in pointing out the dangers of unsublimated repression. The Back Bay is protected, the Scollay Square sot, and the inquisitive college boys are taken care of Bostonia!