A BUSINESS OPENING AT HARVARD.
EVERY one knows that the average tennis man can no more play tennis without a small boy or two to chase balls than - well - than the Football Team can play a game without posing, every five minutes, with hands on knees, for their photograph. Now, the man of business capacity and of a speculative turn of mind, who will get up a corner in small boys, will make a sufficient fortune to enable him to go to the first night of the Greek play at present prices. The corner could be very easily arranged. Get all the tennis nets in the Society building, and make a long seine of them by tying the ends together. When the small fry run in for the broken bats (after the next ball game) get two men who are running for the Pudding to drag the net round them, and the business is done. Stow them away in adjoining cellars until they are wanted. They could be very cheaply kept on Memorial or Fresh Pond soup, whichever is decided to be the most nutritious. You would have complete control of the market, because you would be sure to have ninety-five per cent of the small boys living within a radius of three miles. Prices could be arranged to suit the demand, varying inversely as the laziness of the boys, and directly as the laziness of the players; say twenty-five to tennis men, and at least twice as much to cricketers. This would yield a fair remuneration, perhaps, for the trouble, loss of time and study and, probably, popularity. This last calamity might possibly be avoided by agreeing to turn over to the Crew all the "new quarters" that were taken, say all those coined since last year's race. With such a supply to choose from the Crew ought to be satisfied, and should present Yale with a stern front and no quarter in the negotiations, and with a clear front and a stern quarter in the race.