As the end of examination period, Harvard Men are eager still for intellectual challenge. But their frazzled pates respond only in dulled cliches. Confronted with his grade sheet a student is apt to murmur ominously, "beware of Greeks bearing gift horses in the mouth." Or, preparing to leave Cambridge at last, he may sigh: "home is where you hang your hat it." For these bemused undergraduates we offer a little game to be played on the long car ride home: Pervert-a-Proverb. The sayings to be spoonerized may be drawn from Aesop or advertizing. No matter. Here are a few easy warmer- uppers. (Answers are on page 4.)

* * *

1. The entire reservation was deeply grieved at the untimely demise of the famous and beloved Chief Short-kake. His son, now elevated to the rank of chief though only a young brave, was responsible for arranging the ceremonial interment of his noble father. He entered his mother's wigwam to console her. The tepee was racked with her sobs. Putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, the young Indian assured her, "Don't worry mom, I'll bury dad." "No!" replied the old woman staunchly through her tears:

2. A girl suggested to her swain that they spend the evening at a local amusement park. "Oh come off it." He replied. "You know that whenever you go on those wild rides you wet your pants and embarrass me." "Honestly," she pleaded. "I won't this time. I'll take care." At length the swain consented and the pair enjoyed a pleasant time on a number of the tamer riders. Then the girl urged that they try the terrifying loop-de-loop, the fastest swirling ride in the park. With some trepidation, her date agreed. After several breathtaking circular ascents their car was stopped at the uppermost point. Sure enough, an embarrassing dribble of water fell from their compartment to the ground. The swain was aghast. The moral of this story is:

* * *

3. The moths decided to hold a popularity contest to determine who was the greatest hippie among them. Adlai and Averill, two particularly swinging Lepidoptera, were the leading contenders. Booth waited anxiously outside the polling booth for the results to be announced. When at last the decision was posted, Adlai's face fell. It proclaimed:

* * *

4. Once there was a man who had everything. His wife, therefore, was at a loss about what to get him for his birthday. So she consulted the attendant at a local gift emporium. "Why don't you give him a nice smipe?" the helpful fellow suggested. "We have a very fancy one made of embossed leather and brass." "The very thing!" cried the wife in delight, realizing that a smipe was the one thing her husband didn't have. Needless to say, the man was ecstatic over his present, and for a week he did nothing but play with it. He'd go out merrily into the woods, catch little animals, put them in his smipe, and push them hither and thither with the silver plated rod that was provided for that purpose. As months passed, however, his wife became more and more distressed, for he did nothing all day but play with his smipe. He neglected his children, never went to work, and dressed in a slovenly manner. Finally, driven to desperation by his inattention, the wife bought a boa constrictor and put it in his bed one night. "There!" she cried in fiendish glee as the snake wrapped its coils tightly about his chest, and the life fled from his body:

* * *

5. When officer Murphy was killed in the line of duty, officer Clancy was assigned to take over his beat, the most dangerous and prestigious in the precinct. Clancy was very proud and happy until the sargeant informed him that he would have to marry the late Mr. Murphy's wife. "That's outrageous," he cried looking over the homely woman. "I want his job but not his wife!" "Look, fella," muttered the sargeant philosophically:

6. Constance Worthington, a lady recently admitted to haut bourgeois circles, decided in the interest of cultivated living, to purchase a fine piano. She then asked a knowledgeable friend to recommend a tuner.

"My dear," said her friend, "there is no finer piano tuner in the world then Mr. Opernoketty. His telephone number is EL 4-5150." Mrs. Worthington called him directly and, despite his astronomic fee, arranged an appointment.

At the designated hour a short, mysterious looking foreigner carrying a black attache case arrived at her home, locked the doors to the music room, pulled the blinds shut, and remained for several hours, and left as suddenly as he had come. When Mrs. Worthington sat down at her instrument she could scarcely believe her ear. The music was heavenly beyond imagination; a simple major triad sounded like a choir of angles. Within a short time Mrs. Worthington had become the toast of the musical monde. She gave weekly recitals.

Alas, after some five years of this glory, her piano grew flat. She knew that only one man could be entrusted with the task of retuning. She called up Mr. Opernoketty's office to arrange an appointment. "But that is impossible!" exclaimed his astonished secretary:

* * *