There is only one good thing about Finals and that is Leave soon follows. And while they are with us there is nothing good about them it seems.

It hardly seems possible that we are at the end of our Junior term. Two-thirds of what once seemed to us to be an interminable stretch of a year course is new behind us. During this memorable period so many things have happened that it will take the rest of our natural lives to even recall them. We've learned a lot and we've unlearned a lot. Many of us have gotten a little older, in fact, name of us even shave now. We'll never forget these months spent here at Harvard. But isn't that the plaint of all when the end of any period of memorable happenings comes to a close?

This is really the end of the Class-as a Class. The privilege of living off station means that various cliques will band together, shunning the others by force of circumstances. Some will live in McCullough, some in Glass, others in Winthrop, so that eventually the only times we will be together as a unit will be in the class room, and on that not-too-far-distant day of getting our billets.

All this shouldn't be. And it doesn't have to be if we want to do something about it. The few social events we have held during the past four months should show us that more of these affairs are needed. The newly elected social committee should make plans now so that when we do return from Leave there will be something for us to do in the way of a unit.

Tomorrow the Skipper's pet party-the Navy Relief Dance, will be held in Potter Auditorium. According to Mrs. Inglis, the girls will be something special and since the affair has always been a success lets all continue the good work and make the dance something special. It's a worthy cause, for the motto of the Navy Relief Society is, "The Navy Takes Care of Its Own."

A last round of applause and our professors how out of our lives. Naturally the present Midshipman class will have practically the same group of men teaching them as we have just had the sad pleasure of leaving. In keeping with the best Naval tradition of helping your buddies we have decided to give our junior brethren a few tips on the profs.

Mr. Cunningham-alias the "bard of rails." Speak in reverential tones when you speak of the Lackawanna. Write poetry about the Railroads, hate the motor truck and love the Railroads and brother you're in.

Mr. Robbins-Know all you can about foremen unions. In every case, the plant might be over-taxed, the machinery out-moded, no controls and the inventories are spewing into the desk drawers-but don't worry, talk about the human element and the Unions and a Dist. is your's (Anything else?)

Mr. Snyder-Don't be facetious. That's all, just don't be facetious.

Mr. Beckham-Here we could really give you all the info' needed to make you hep to what the great D.O. demands from his classes. But-well, you go to class in Baker Library, don't you? Well, then you've heard him already. Besides, we need the marks and if we spoiled all his little jokes-e.g. 50/50-where would we get? Why, up in the Aleutians, of course.