ABOUT once a week some exchange editor finds it his duty to read the editors of certain college papers a lecture on the amount of space they devote to athletics. Now is it not as likely that the editors are just as good judges of what their readers want as are exchange editors of other papers? As for us, we have a library at Harvard where the students can have access to very much better articles on historical, philosophical, and scientific subjects than we could furnish, and the instructors in themes and forensics have kindly relieved us of the necessity of training the students in the art of composition. In the case of a paper published at a college where little or no attention is given to athletics, it would be unwise to devote any considerable space to records of sports; but in a college where all kinds of athletics find encouragement the students rightly demand that their papers shall give a large share of attention to this much-abused department.
THE Archangel, true to its motto of "Religion and Science," comes to us with edifying articles on "Evil Company," "Religious Principle of Public Liberty," "The Jesuits," "Art of Sculpture," etc. The Archangel's lighter side consists of the usual newspaper clippings, such rhetorical questions as "Who is not wishing for happy Summer Days?" and the new and original joke, "Will the Russians eat Turk-ey on Thanksgiving?" Its one solitary editorial, apropos of nothing, informs us that "hardly a day dawns" but Americans are "startled by the publication of a new book." Should this be a story-book, "it is our greatest anxiety to have it, not thinking for a moment on what it contains; whether good or bad, it is all the same." The "bitter consequences," of course, are the "injuring of the brain by losing all the intellectual faculties and also ruining the body by sickness," to say nothing of the fact that it leads one into "the worst of crimes." What a hot-bed of iniquity Gore Hall must be!
A Groan.THE "???" and the "Ding an Sich,"
"To???," and the power
Of numbers; Schelling, Fichte, Kant,
And even Schopenhauer, -
Are nectar to the thirsty soul,
Ambrosia to the faint;
But my contempt for C. J. White
No pen can ever paint. - Acta Columbiana.