An American History number is the latest contribution of Lampy to its long line of predecessors in special editions. Its unusually distorted account of our nation's progress since 1492 has as many low spots as high ones, but on the whole, it contains very readable and diverting matter. If our History courses were only enlivened by such humorous, often grotesque, pictures and such amusingly modernized anecdotes as this issue presents, lectures would be cheerfully attended and memorizing for the mid-years would be a pleasure.

In spite of the fact that many efforts at facetiousness in describing historical events fall flatter than the proverbial redskin who "bites the dust," there is much that is genuinely funny on the other side of the scales. The cover, by N. Choate '22, is perhaps the best of all; at first glance it is not too startling; but closer examination reveals a wealth of absurd details that go to make up a unique conception indeed. It is not easy to pick out any particular item that is vastly superior to the rest; most of those worth mentioning are written in conventional Lampoon style, tinged with attempted Stephen Leacockism, which, as often as not, succeeds in provoking spontaneous mirth. But such incidents as "Columbus Modernized." "The First Steamboat," and the advertisement opposite the first page, are a bit above the general average.

Illustrations Well Done

The four full-page illustrations deserve comment, the best of these undoubtedly being "Smith's America of 1616," a unique map conceived by S. P. Moorehead '22. The cartoon about the "Drive Closed," for which Merwin and McCord are responsible, hardly belongs, as yet, in an American History Number, but the clever idea it embodies more than offsets its momentary inappropriateness. Altogether, the newest Lampoon maintains its usual standard of excellence while in no way distinguishing itself by any extraordinary offering at the jester's feet.