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(Ed. Note--The Crimson does not necessarily endorse opinions expressed in printed communications. No attention will be paid to anonymous letters and only under special conditions at the request of the writer will names be with-held.)

To the Editor of the CRIMSON:

Have you heard the rumor? It's about Miss Primson, the talkative spinster of Plympton Street. You know her, to be sure--she of pompous, pronuncia-mientos and of exquisite euphemisms. They say she is doting. What a pity!

Some weeks ago, on a cold, wintry day, assuming her primmest pose, she proposed that all boys in the college write theses in all large courses, because the professors could not get in close contact with their mentalities through quizzes and examinations. Of course, acting from an altruistic impulse; she overlooked the facts that the majority of large courses are elementary and of a survey nature, inadequate for research; that such theses would have to be written mainly during the reading period, when boys should "browse" and no more; that there are enough requirements of written material in one's concentration without the addition of superfluities . . . .

But, no doubt, good Miss Primson meant well, for she has a noble soul.

Then, early this morning, she dropped her knitting, went to the window, and sniffing the balmy air, decided that, after all, her boys should not work so hard in the so-called cultural courses; just some gentlemanly browsing would be enough. Now, it happens that these courses are generally the same to which she lent her kind attention some weeks ago. But that was on a cold, wintry day.

So they say that good Miss Primson is in her dotage. I cannot believe it. She is just human, subject to moods and the weather. But please take her away from the window and lead her gently back to her rocker, where she might resume her gentle chatter and her knitting; else we might confuse her with that naughty child, the Jester. Manuel de J. Manduly '31.

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