Over three hundred years ago, the General Court of the Company of Massachusetts Bay appropriated 400 pounds for the founding of a "schoale or colledge." Although two years went by before the proposed institution actually opened its doors, and was officially named "Harvard" in honor of its first benefactor, 1636 is recognized as its birth date.

Entering Cambridge for the first time, the student cannot help but be impressd with the history and tradition that surrounds him. It won't be long, for example, before he discovers Wadsworth House, General Washington's headquarters; Massachusetts Hall, the oldest University building (1720); and Holden Chapel, where the Massachusetts legislature met for a time during the Revolution.

Furthermore, he will soon find that there is no "Campus," but a "Yard," and that the Freshmen (not 'Fresh") Halls, rather than "dormitories," are located there. But some of the great names and personalities from "the age that is past" may mean nothing to him.

One graduate, returning after an absence of twenty years, described himself as wandering, lost, around the Yard,

"Seeking a landmark, a reckoning mountain,

"Hoping for Kitty, or Copey, or Bliss."

He was referring to three of the University's most outstanding and revered teachers: the late George Lyman Kittredge, Charles Townsend Copeland, and Bliss Perry. Of this famed English department triumvirate, Professors Copeland and Perry and emeritus; sometimes "Copey," (who now asks, with feigned disgust "why do you keep the Copey legend alive?") gives one of his spectacular readings for the Freshman class.

'John the Orangeman," with his donkey cart, was another well-known figure of bygone years. It was he who translated the University's "Veritas" as "ter Hell wid Yale." Colonel Charles R. Apted, chief of the Yard police, was the victim of many a student prank, but was noted for his ability in saving as well as seizing.

A discussion of college traditions would not even be acceptable without some mention of John B. G. Rinehart '00, of Waynesburg, Pennsylvania. For nearly half a century, the cry of "Rinehart" has been the signal for a general uprising of the student population and, perhaps, a subsequent march on Radcliffe. It is the old spring riot call, and has seldom gone unanswered.

According to Rinehart, who told the story at the Tercentenary, ten years ago, he lived on the fourth floor of Grays Hall, and his friends used to call up to him from outside rather than attempt the stairs to his room. One memorable evening several acquaintances stood under his window and yelled; the rest of the students around the Yard picked up the cry, and a full-fledged riot began.

'Pages could be written on University history; and, in fact, they have. In "Three Centuries of Harvard," for instance, Samuel Eliot Morison '07, Jonathan Trumbull Professor of American History, has set down in most enjoyable fashion the bulk of the University's traditions and the story of its past. The volume is a "must" for every student.BLISS