A year ago, Yale University took a good slap in the face when Vassar College turned down its offer of educational "cooperation." Undaunted, Kingman Brewster ploughed ahead in his search for girls, and last week his efforts climaxed in the announcement that--after 267 unisexual years--Yale has yielded to The Women.

There will be 500 of them next year. They will be Yalies in every sense. They will take Yale's courses, eat Yale's food, sleep in Yale's beds. And they will discover the men, as the men discover them--coming in time to love them, understand them, feel their pains and their pleasures. What Harvard and Radcliffe have found out for themselves Yale will now have a chance to learn: that there are many stops on the great highway we call Life, there are many turns, and many detours. Bandits lie in wait to harrass the tardy, pitfalls to ensnare the foolish, and pimps and whores to seduce the virgins.

At Yale's helm, Brewster has guided the University one step further down this perilous course. For his boys, there will now be no more waiting in drab New Haven station for trainloads of weekend sex. They will no longer have to pace back and forth on the platform of Track 8, chewing their fingers and sweating in their pants. Instead, they will go blissfully about their daily business, because out of the blue sky of creation a Yale baby has been born.