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Overset

IN a newspaper office when there is too much type set up, the least important is cut and not printed. That is called "overset." It generally consists of a jumble of unrelated paragraphs which have not much to say for themselves anyway. They never agree with any policy and the stories get along perfectly well without them.

By appropriating this title, we have set ourselves a standard which we hope we will be able to uphold.

Freshman classes seem to be improving in "horse-sense." We could only find three instances of lack thereof this year.

Mr. X '41 (we shall conceal his identity partly from compassion, but more, perhaps, because we do not know it), emerged from Massachusetts Hall muttering surprise that he should be given the key to his mailbox rather than the mailman.

Mr. Y '41 (to distinguish him from X. If X is guilty of both these deeds, we beg Y to come around to the Houses early some morning, say noon, so that we may apologize), after having registered Friday, approached the information desk in University Hall and asked where he might find the Dean to obtain permission to leave College until classes began.

Mr. Z '41 (ditto), entered his room and immediately dialled the telephone business office to order his telephone connected. On receiving no answer, he rushed to another telephone and reported his own out of order.

Such mild instructions in the front of textbooks as "in case of fire, throw this in" seem mild compared with the verse which turned up in a second-hand textbook bought last week, of which we are only able to print a part:

"If you should meet upon the street

The author of this book, Knock the * * * * *

The * * * * (Ed. note: Wow) * * * * * crook!.

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