The spring number of the Lampoon is a trifle late this year, but we've had a late spring, too. The tardy delivery from the presses is not noticeable except in the case of the editorial on the Princeton ball game, of which the Lampoon speaks in the future tense whereas all of last Sunday's papers dealt with it in the past tense. Or maybe Lampy was referring to the second game of the series late this month.

Wit has taken a welcome brace in these spring months of ours. The Lampoon of nowadays is thrice as sprightly as it was earlier in the college year when a decimated board or editors tackled an unwonted task. Its quips carry a superior kick and its rhymes show an improvement in content and metre. All of which naturally makes the spring number a whole lot more enjoyable than the autumn edition.

The best limerick is on the front cover. The best advertisement is on the back cover. The best poem is Colonel House's auto-eulogy. The best joke is the one about the inebriate and the soap advertisement. As the drug clerk said of the seidlitz powder, it isn't half bad.