DELICIOUS SPRING

Rapidly the halycon days of leisurely warmth are approaching, when one can peal off his coat and relax on the banks of the Charles, of sensuous nights, when one can still peel his coat and gad about in open automobiles. Each year without fail the coming of spring means the return from hibernation of America's only nationally recognized institution. When you see pictures of broad-smiling, becapped youths and old young men in the papers who are reported to be "holding out", when mothers miss their offspring regularly in the long afternoons, when mayors start exercising their arm muscles, you know truthfully that baseball is here.

It is also known by a few that baseball permeates Harvard, Hawk-eyes may suspect such a fact by the frequent smack of ball against glove on the greens of the Houses, especially by the activity on Soldier's Field. Baseball is good at Harvard, too, and for several years Cambridge teams have sparkled in collegiate competition. It may be true that Harvard has not the best diamond and bleachers in the world, that this year the nine has given us a disappointing start; but considering that the Mayor of Harvard might have thrown the first ball if he had not had a shoulder injury, that nothing is more ideal than sitting in your shirtsleeves and drinking pop, and that every day is ladies' day, undergraduates have no excuse for staying in Widener or playing bridge on days of baseball games.