ROAST IBIS

The passing of Arthur and these noble nights it now history. Down the stairs and across the filled floor for "a black and white, and coffee" is still possible for the Undergraduate, but no longer feasible; a jester is not to be trusted with the salt. Arthur was in, of, and for the bowels of Lampy, but his Einstein united the venerable magazine, too well. Year by year Plympton street observers have heard the dinner boll ring, and observed the Jester and his crow grow fatter and fatter on Arthur's food, till the bright sparklings of pristine wit grow don and failed, overlaid with the thick roll of fleshy matter.

Somebody once said, "There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken of the flood, leads on to fortune", and so one judges it is with the Lampoon. From the humorous material which the Lampoon, has been forced to run, such as the characteristic story of "Who was that lady?" the wisdom of the organization turned to the sale of Bologna sausage is self-evident. The announcement of the new venture itself gives the reasons for the new policy. Since the exhaustion of his cellar, Lampy's spirit has languished; now the basement is renovated, and the new policy affords' a meal ticket. The future of Lampy was predictable when that magazine first was mailed "wrapped in a plain cover", and the CRIMSON congratulates its old friend for submitting so gracefully to the slings of fortune; though the Lampoon has thus half sunk from its former estate, there will be no love lost because of it. There is all half to that noble company of Heliogabalus, Alice Foote MacDougall, and the Harvard Lampoon.