drys was the agreement that liquor should not be served to minors. On
the contrary, the provision should have been that drink ought not to
be permitted to any man more than thirty years of age. Liquor was
never meant to be a steady companion. It was the animating influence
which made oats wild. Work and responsibility are the portion of the
mature man. Rum was designed for youthful days when the reckless
avidity for experience is so great that reality must be blurred a
little lest it blind us.

We happened to pick up a copy of "The Harvard Crimson" the other day
and read: "The first freshman smoker will be held at 7.45 o'clock this
evening in the living room of the Union. P. H. Theopold, '25, Chairman
of the Smoker Committee, will act as Chairman, introducing Clark
Hodder, '25, and J. H. Child, '25, the Class President and Secretary
respectively. After the speeches there will be a motion picture, and
some vaudeville by a magician from Keith's. Ginger ale, crackers, and
cigarettes will be served. All freshmen are invited to attend."

They used to be called Freshmen Beer Nights and in those days the
possibility of friendship at first sight was not fantastic. We feel
sure that it cannot be done on ginger ale. The urge for democracy does
not dwell in any soft drink. The speeches will be terrible, for there
will be no pleasant interruptions of "Aw, sit down," from the man in
the back of the room. If somebody begins to sing, "P. H. Theopold is a
good old soul," it is not likely to carry conviction. Not once during
the evening will any speaker confine himself to saying, "To Hell with
Yale!" and falling off the table. Probably the magician will not be
able to find anything in the high hat except white rabbits.

Although we have seen no first hand report of that freshman smoker, we