Happy were the editors of the CRIMSON when, in 1876, a grinning new born babe appeared in the middle of Mt. Auburn street. Ere long they began taking if down on the swamp across the river, where they rolled it in the mud and pulled its hair and fed it grape juice and then called the score 23-2 in their favor.

The grinning baby grew up and became known as the Lampoon. But each Spring the CRIMSON still takes it across the river. Although the ground has grown too and thee is no more swamp, it always manages to rain for the game. So the grinning Lampon editors still get rolled in the mud. After awhile it began to hurt when their hair was pulled,, so now they all have crew cuts. But the score is still 23-2.

The CRIMSON-Lampoon game is about the only honest-to-goodness tradition left in a University that has successfully tried to keep up with the ever-changing and ambitious spirit of America. Serene old Harvard Yard is now a thoroughfare for perambulator and high school traffic, as well as for non-stop flights from the Houses to the Science labs, and we have an eight year old House spirit "tradition". The Hollis Hall pump, in the eyes of sightseers, is a three century old relic. In the eyes of students it is a year old pump.

To the hopeful person who opens his mailbox after each delivery the tutoring schools, to the man who buys his own shirts the Cambridge laundries, and to the Freshman the Union food--each may begin to assume the form of an unadvertised tradition. But none has lasted as long as the CRIMSON-Lampoon game. May it be continued as long as the Lampoon is in existence and may the score always be 23-2.