To many generations of Harvard students, Copey and Christmas have become almost synonymous. Shortly before the vacation recess each December, except last year when he was ill, Copey has given his Yuletide readings to Freshmen at the Union. This has been going on for twenty-six years now, and Copey's drawing power is growing greater with each year. It is not because he is the former Boylston Professor of Rhetoric and Oratory that Copey's annual rendition regularly attracts crowds of Yardlings; they can and do hear accomplished speakers almost daily! It is not because the selections he reads are exciting or dramatic; they are not. But both the selections and Copey himself have definite appeal, something deeper than acting, something more moving than the words he utters.

Perhaps it is because to Harvardmen Copey has come to be the embodiment of the true Christmas spirit, solemn, a bit musty, but soothing. The listener knows that if Copey had his way, Christmas would be snowy, with wreaths in the windows, and good fellowship everywhere. Even the young man whose Yuletide always has meant only presents and dances and eggnog is likely, under his spell, to see the advantages of Copey's way. Up on the platform, Copey must realize that fact, must sense it in the quiet appreciation which fills the room. That feeling, imparted to dozens of classes of young men at this time of year, must be gratifying. It is Charles Townsend Copeland's reward.