It is always a pleasure to welcome Yale, but even more so this year than for several years in the past. Friendly feeling and hospitality and warmth of greeting are traditional parts of the weekend, and to them in 1937 Harvard adds a team of the same grade as those teams in the past whose hard, uncertain struggles with Yale were the best afternoons of the Autumn. This friendly atmosphere is indeed a change from that one hundred and sixty-seven years ago when an invasion of Boston by a different army found at least one Cambridge man who,

". . . . on the opposite shore will be

Ready to ride and spread the alarm

Through every Middlesex village and farm

For the country folk to be up and to arm."

If any of the invading host are dragged off today by local inhabitants, it will only be to refreshments, and there is little chance that the Yale team will be picked off from upper windows as it marches down Boylston Street.

The friendliest of greetings, however, cannot hide the determination of Harvard to beat Yale this afternoon. The undergraduates are behind the team and behind the undergraduates are the thousands of alumni glued to the radio from New York to Australia. Since 1933 the cup of victory has not touched Harvard lips, though last fall at New Haven it seemed close, and the present Puritans are parched. They read in the papers that the team is good, for work and sustained drive have produced a deceptive and polished attack that will "go" in the absence of a star. That Yale is a great team cannot be denied, but the College feels that if spirit and resolution count, Harvard, too, this afternoon will be a great team. Everyone wishes the players good luck.