It is probably just as well that there are only four periods of fifteen minutes each in any one football game. If the spectacle on Soldiers Field Saturday had been prolonged very much whatever elation was felt when the final horn did blow would have evaporated into nothing. A big fresh team making hash out of a smaller tired team isn't much of a show, even for the Crimson cheering section . . . There was an uneasy feeling that this team, which, as everyone knows, doesn't run up 49-0 scores that belong to Texas couldn't have been a Harvard football or Alabama . . .

Of course, the foregoing wasn't strictly true in the first half. What with errant center passes flying around the gridiron, and fumbles and penalties tying up the Crimson every time they neared paydirt, it looked as though a count of 7-0 or 14-0 might be on the board when it was all over . . . The scoreboard, incidentally, still isn't functioning fully and a new, automatic, electric job is expected momentarily . . .

Coach Harlow didn't have too much to say about the game. He opined that the blocking was better, especially the down field variety, and was gleeful on the improved gang tackling that was responsible for giving the Jumbos a 12 yard deficit in the yards-gained-rushing department . . . He was immensely pleased with Bucky Harrison's work. Statisticians have figured it that Bucky kicked from placement a total of 16 times on Saturday--a round afternoon's work for anyone's toe. The day before he did all this he played a full game with the Jayvees as a quarterback. There he converted three out of four times against hapless Tufts . . .

The band, sans the promised new uniforms, performed accurately and startlingly on the field between halves, outclassing a game but smaller Jumbo aggregation. A high-stepping, swivelhipped, well-padded blond drum majorette was far and away the best player of the afternoon . . . Just like old times when the Crimson band started in on the famous "Wintergreen" medley before the opening kick off . . . When the huge first "T" was formed by the band a Princeton scout was seen to note: "unbalanced T to the right." He closed his book and slunk away. Apre lui le deluge . . .