The freshman cries for justice. The idea that the details of the torchlight rush have been presented solely from a sophomoric point of view fills his ardent soul with envy and he calls aloud that his deeds may be set forth in undying print for the benefit of posterity and humanity in general and the edification of himself in particular. How the fence went down before the mighty onslaught of the '88 warriors, how the sophomore braves Lacked sand to begin the fight after the time-honored custom, how many of the latter were bareheaded on their return to the classic shades and finally how, in a fit of kindness, the thoughtful freshmen covered the head of our illustrious founder shivering on his cold seat in the night air with their one remaining plug, he desires shall be told in full. But with what justice can we relate the brave deeds of one freshman without relating the deeds of all, and that indeed, were too much to ask. '87 is not proud, but truthful, and it rests satisfied with the work of its single chronicler. To properly satisfy '88 would take a book as long as the Iliad, and to write one now in the midst of football and forensics, theatres and dinners, lectures and recitations, is asking too much; '88 must wait until the long vacation.