the =Sun= will prove beneficial or
harmful to the United. We most assuredly need some sort of stimulus to
activity, yet the comparatively crude atmosphere of newspaperdom is
anything but inspiring in a literary society. We cannot descend from the
ideals of Homer to those of Hearst without a distinct loss of quality,
for which no possible gain in mere enthusiasm can compensate. Headlines
such as "Columbus Bunch Boosting Paul" or "Hep Still Shows Pep", are
positive affronts to the dignity of amateur journalism. There is room
for an alert and informing news sheet in the United, yet we feel certain
that the =Sun= must become a far more sedate and scholarly publication
before it can adequately supply the need. At present, its garish rays
dazzle and blind more than they illuminate; in a perusal of its pages we
experience more of =sunstroke= than of =sunshine=. Of "The Best Sport
Page In Amateurdom" we find it difficult to speak or write. Not since
perusing the delectable lines of "Tom Crib's Memorial to Congress", by
jovial old "Anacreon Moore", have we beheld such an invasion of
prize-fight philosophy and race-track rhetoric. We learn with interest
that a former United member named "Handsome Harry" has now graduated
from literature to =left field=, and has, through sheer genius, risen
from the lowly level of the ambitious author, to the exalted eminence of
the =classy slugger=. Too proud to =push the pen=, he now =swats the
pill=. Of such doth the dizzy quality of sempiternal Fame consist!
Speaking without levity, we cannot but censure Mr. Dowdell's
introduction of the ringside or ball-field spirit into an Association
purporting to promote culture and lettered skill. Our members can
scarcely be expected to place the Stygian-hued John Arthur Johnson,
Esq., on a pedestal beside his well-known namesake Samuel; or calmly to
compare the stinging wit of a Sidney Smith with the stinging fist-cuffs
of a "Gunboat" Smith. In a word, what is suited to the street-corner is
not always suited to the library, and the taste of the United is as yet
but imperfectly attuned to the lyrical liltings of the pool-room Muse.
It is both hard and unwise to take the "Best Sport Page" seriously. As a
copy of "yellow" models it is a work of artistic verisimilitude; indeed,
were Mr. Dowdell a somewhat older man, we might justly suspect a
satirical intention on his part.

We trust that =The Cleveland Sun= may shine on without cloud or setting,
though we