Years of extensive research conducted carefully and systematically but its former subscribers, have failed to isolate that elusive atom known to students to Cambridge's better tutoring bureaus as "The Harvard Crimson." But the deductive method applied to a story which apeared recently on the front page of that publication, has finally solved the mystery.

According to the issue of January 26, 1937, Freddie Bartholomew plans to enter Harvard, while Shirley Temple is deterred from registering at Radcliffe only through the dieticians' refusal to supply her with health foods such as Wheaties, Cocomalt, etc. This is announced with such reproachful sadness by the Crimson that one can only assume that these items are common fare in the Harvard Houses, and that their dieticians would be delighted to pump Freddie and his classmates full of haliver oil, on the slightest provocation. We heartily endorse this attitude, since by the natural laws of evolution the "precious ducklings" of Harvard (an expression aptly coined by the Crimson) will in ten years have progressed to a state where vitamin D alone can help them.

Quoting, however, from Miss Temple's frantic night letter to the Radcliffe News, she "denies everything" and ascribes the whole affair to "a publicity stunt conceived by my press agent, an ex-reporter of the Crimson, who was discharged for misspelling a football player's name in the Athletic Notices." Moreover, the articles mentioned as necessary for the proper Radcliffe spirit, glasses, flat heeled shoes and other paraphernalia, she attacks as "the product of a banal imagination, or rather the product of a banal collective lack of imagination."

"This sort of exaggeration is all that one can expect from a certain type of sensationalist literature," continues Miss Temple.

We have it on good authority, moreover, that upon being informed that the Crimson is the basis for the liberal education enjoyed by many representatives of the best Harvard, Mr. Bartholomew suddenly decided to go to the University of Miami. He was said to have commented on a statement published in the January 27 issue of the Crimson: "Wolf is said to know more about what is going on at Harvard than anyone else except the President of the Crimson. Whee!" and to have expressed the unreasonable desire to obtain a broader cultural background than could be acquired by knowing about Harvard or even about the Crimson.

In view of these denunciations, and with the erubescent qualities of certain tabloids in mind, we hope that Funk and Wagnalls have at last arrived at the proper analysis of Crimson when they say: "To make or become crimson, redden, blush." We are confident, however, of the accuracy of the following definition, which a prominent semanticist has assured us will fit any Harvard publication, "deep red tinged with blue." --The Radcliffe News.