At a time when Harvard looms high in the attention and esteem of educational and cultural men and organizations, it is gratifying to note how far this aura of prestige and scholastic sanctity has pervaded. Not only in the hearts of the illustrious and great, but also in the bosoms of the lowly has Harvard's flame been kindled. This little story, passed on to us by one who also serves, warmed the cockles of our hearts by its milk-of-human-kindness.

A day or so ago, outside the hallowed cloisters of Kirkland House, a garbage truck was loading its inimitable wares and in return, unloading the empty tin cans noisily on the side walk. This din continued for a few months to the misery of all in the neighborhood when one appeared, who, by his bearing, was evidently chief among the garbage coterie. His minions, not noticing him, continued their cacophony until a shout silenced them momentarily.

"Hey, will youse guys cut that row? Waddaye think dis is?" then with a reverent motion towards Kirkland, "Youse pro'bly didn't know dat some of de greatest brains in dis country was woikin in dese very walls." And in almost ethereal silence the garbage crew, much chastened, continued to ply their tasks with the thought of some of the greatest minds in the world right at work, not twenty feet away, still buzzing in their heads.