Warning to all undergraduates studying for exams: do not read the latest issue of the sometimes-monthly "Harvard Lampoon." It will break into the sober, solemn atmosphere of studiousness; it will spoil the gloomy mood surrounding faded and illegible lecture notes; in short, it will make you laugh.

Furthermore, do not open it intending only a quick glance and a passing smile, because you will find yourself reading the entire magazine, except possibly for some rhymed, five-line fillers masquerading as limericks. Take "Speak For St. Joan," for instance. This is a good-natured burlesque of what might happen if two local histrionic organizations were to whip up a joint production. The points of the satire are consistently clear and the lyrics consistently funny, while the madcap climax combines a Cole Porter motif and a Charles Addams taste for the hideously ridiculous into some-thing of a tour de force.

Having finished "Speak For St. Joan," the choice between continuing the "Lampoon" and returning to left-over reading-period assignments should be a simple one. Even the cartoons, several of them by a prewar funnyman, will bring forth a heartier and more frequent chuckle than has resulted from local pictorial humor since candy bars were a nickel. In fact, the whole magazine, while seldom riotous, is the product of a wit that has too long been held in chains within the Bow Street Alcatraz.