THE SIRENS

The trees in the Yard leaf-covered; caps and gowns, Albert very few; crew, track, baseball, tennis: spring, so slow in coming, so swift to leave, is already starting away, and summer, bringing Commencement, is no longer distant. This is the time for Seniors to take thought; to measure well the little space still theirs before the tassels are tossed to the other side of the caps, and Harvard has opened the gate for another five hundred to enter the fellowship of educated men.

But after that, as the school year books say, comes life; and long before that have come gentlemen, successful in business, to guide the graduate from the groves to the market-place. Some will be bond salesmen, and wax financial in the company of State Street's rulers; some will find their end and aim behind a Woolworth red front; some will be realtors, though of course never Babbits. But enough of business pure: romance, too, has a word in what the graduate shall do. Hollywood, even from an administrative office, allures: but by the tropics the palm is held most imperiously for him who would dare. And if fruit and sugar production fails to fill the craving for the Caribbees, still there is sunshine, and white flannels for the asking, and doubtless castanets and the habanera. Who would quibble when Cuba offers herself to the habitue of Sever?