A new sport, Sputnikwatching, has arisen at Harvard.

To find out the rules, a reporter was sent down to Weeks Bridge at an ungodly hour. Soon the players, shabbily dressed people carrying binoculars, began to arrive. They looked around uneasily.

"I've taken a couple of astronomy courses," explained one.

The players took their positions, learning on the bridge rail. An argument soon developed as to where the Sputnik would come from. "I read in the CRIMSON that the Lowell House tutors said it appeared directly over the bell tower," a boy focusing a telescope suggested. It was suggested, however, that, at the time of that sighting, it was extremely improbable that the Lowell tutors could be certain of the whereabouts of the tower.

The Eliot House tower was designated point of origin, and the players then began the next phase of the game, which consists of shivering and rubbing one's hands together.

"There it is!" someone shouted as a flash appeared in the sky.

"Those are trolley sparks, you fool."

The game continues in silence. It seems to be played better in the dark, and the Undergraduate Athletic Committee cooperates by dimming the lights on the bridge at 5:45. The players then chant the Sputnikchant, which sounds something like "Doyouseeityet."

Finally, the eventual winner gesticulates wildly. Everyone else imitates the gesture, pointing at the sky. It must be emphasized that excitement is enormously increased for near-sighted reporters, who see nothing except stars and trolley flashes.

"Donchaseeit," another frequent rallying cry, is used to prod laggards. "It's next to O'Ryan," one shouts. "It's at Sirius, the dog," exclaims another.

There was no dog to be seen--except a small mongrel attracted by the noise. It seemed to make no difference to those in the game. Finally, at a prearranged signal of "Itsgone," the fingers come down, the lights come on, and the players shuffle away from the quiet Charles.