TO THE EDITORS OF THE CRIMSON:-
I SHOULD like to point out to the Seniors a singular insatiability of former classes in the matter of Class-Day orations. Not content with sitting in the Chapel for two hours, on what is well known to be the hottest day of the year, and listening to an orator who seldom has much to say that is worth hearing, they have been in the habit of adjourning to the open air to solace themselves with another oration.
The second speaker has a still more indefinite scope for his remarks than the first, his good things have been said by the class orator, his words ascend to the ether above, and are caught only by the broadest ears in his audience. Of the custom of planting ivies I have nothing to say. To point to the walls of the Library, against which clinging vines have been planted for at least a score of years, is sufficient. The magnificent display of green foliage hiding the gray stone is justly admired by all who see it. But cannot the next graduating class add their mite to this magnificent display without saying anything about it? Will not the vine last just as long if its roots are not watered with a dissertation upon the Whole Duty of Man and the Scholar in Politics?