Gradus ad Parnassum

THIS is to be a Page without a Purpose. Anyone may use it as long as he eschews the Momentous. It invites any Controversy about anything which is not too Important. Although it looks somewhat askance upon Ideas, it is not wholly inimical to Thought as long as it is not too Laborious and Profound. It shall not invariably require a Tongue in the Cheek, but it at least expects a Gleam in the Eye. Satire will always be welcome, but Malice will be condoned only in those who can submit Evidence that they have been subject to chronic Dyspepsia for fourteen Years. Verse will be greeted with Joy, and even Poetry will be made to feel at home. Sentimentalism will be admitted in August and February, except in Leap Years, and moderate Flippancy will be tolerated during Democratic Conventions and Influenza Epidemics. No contributions, however, will be accepted from smart Alecks. The Unique will always be at a Premium, but no Partiality will be allowed to the Truth except under very unusual Circumstances. The Page, in brief, will ding carefully to a Principle of Careless Anomaly, or vice versa.

And Lon Chaney is Dead!

From Malcolm G. Rollins '11, executive spirit and felicitous polysyllabic word-wielder and bulletin-writer of the Dartmouth College Club of New York, comes the following communication in regard to the prevailing imposture epidemic:

"Old Doc Harris, of the class of '86 or thereabouts, had the pleasure of being called upon the other day by a young man—I quote the description—smooth faced, slightly built, wears glasses, about twentyfive or less, good address, and remarkable assurance. Told the worthy medico that he was the son of Chancellor Jenks of Evanston, had been in automobile accident, needed funds—and got them to the extent of $50. Aesculapious's descendant later found that the same fox had taken Albert Hadlock of '87 for 20 bucks, in this case being the son of a classmate of the latter's.

"To quote the old and splendid lyric entitled 'Frankie and Johnnie,' the little 'son-of-a-gun' should be apprehended, and when, if and as he is, I crave the privilege of tossing a few more of his same ilk into the lion's den with him.

"Berling in erl, as they say in Brooklyn, is only half good enough."

It cost Dr. William Gerry Morgan '90, fifty dollars for being too full of the milk of human kindness. He wrote the following letter to the Journal of the American Medical Association:

"On July 28, 1930, a nice appearing, well dressed, apparently straight-forward young man called at my office and introduced himself as Charles Albert Perkins, Jr., the son of a classmate and close friend of my Dartmouth days. He stated that he had met with an automobile accident in Maryland, had been arrested and fined and was in urgent need of enough money to get him back to Cleveland Clinic where he was an interne. He told me such intimate things relative to my college mate, who long since died, that I had no suspicion that he was an imposter. I loaned him fifty dollars which he promised to return as soon as he could hear from his mother who, he said, was spending the summer on the Pacific Coast. Not having heard from the young man, I recently wrote to the Cleveland Clinic asking if such a young man was attached to their staff. The reply comes that there was no such young man there nor had there ever been one of that name. I call this to your attention thinking that other doctors may be approached by this young man with the attempt to swindle them out of hard earned money."

From Albert R. Perkins '25, annoyed by being impersonated, come two communications, from which we quote the following:

"In connection with the impostor who mulcted Dr. Morgan (the . stomach man) in Washington, the same lad is apparently working the New England territory, although no longer under the name of CharlesAlbert Perkins, Jr.

"Under date of October 25, Dr. Safford of Boston informs me that recently a plausible young man calling himself Henry H. Hilton, Jr., and telling a story of an automobile accident, arrest, and fine, called on John F. McDonald, Boston criminal lawyer, and took him for fifty bills.

"Dr. Safford has written to Willis McDuffee, sec'y of the class of '9O, about both affairs, and I am sure you can get full details from him if you want a blast for the ALUMNI MAGAZINE. I am sending the stomach man my Aegis, although this second crime inclines me to the belief that the culprit is not of 1925. There wasn't anybody bright enough in that group to think of two names.

"Dr. Morgan describes the master criminal as follows: About 28 to 30 years of age, 5 feet 8 inches tall, medium build, smooth oval face, dark hair, eyes blue or hazel, large well-shaped mouth filled with excellent teeth. His manner was free, easy, and extremely pleasant, without being the least bit over-effusive. He had the appearance of a cultivated lad from a good family, and was modestly although very correctly dressed. His expression was open and frank, his voice was well-modulated, and one felt instantly drawn to him. I had not the smallest suspicion that he was anything but what he claimed to be.'

Between 1886 and 1930, the Zion City Junior High team never scored a single point. This fall, an af- fluent alumnus came to the rescue, presenting them with a most stimulating mascot ... a Shuffle-footed Nightingale. The effect on their morale has been unbelievable.

"Bossie," a Nigerian Marsupial, has wrought wonders for the Nalgon U. team this season. In Nigeria, marsupial noses are considered supernatural, and the Nalgon boys have taken over this superstition—each player fondling the proboscis before starting a game. The effect on their morale has been unbelievable.

Would the Proper MascotHelp Us Beat Yale?How Unique Mascots have Helped other Collegesout of Similar Jinxes—Pictured in three Cartoonsby Dr. Seuss '25 as his contribution to the initialnumber of Gradus Ad Parnassum. One hard luck team was the Hackensack College of Fruitbasket Architecture. This year the coach decided that the players would do better if they actually had personal contact with their mascot during the game. Now, whenever time-out is called, out rush the Waterboys with Thidwick, their inspirational goldfish! The effect on their morale has been unbelievable.