Tramping and (In)Human Values.

Dear "Smad,"—

We are surprised at the temerity of the author of "Tramping and Human Values," in the last "Smad," He must be a bold Spirit, indeed, who thus lays bare the innermost secrets of his heart to the rapacious serutiny of our budding psychoanalysts. To such, the opening paragraph would reveal the erotie impulse that is the root of all tramping.

There is no need for the lament: "It is so hard for the true lover to get across the footlights to those who do not share his love." We understand.

While we are prepared to admit this analysis by our local psychologists, not being psychologists ourselves, we prefer to state our objections to this pursuit on the basis of our own experience.

To us, tramping is concentrated unrestricted bestiality. Far from being a striving after loftier human ideals, tramping is entirely atavistic—a leap into the simian. The impassioned and voluptuous writer of that article dwells on the beauties of Nature. When we once tramped, we did not see any; how could we? With outstretched neek and straggling rear, with bulging eyeballs and greasy torso, we had enough trouble following the noisome splashing and flounderings of the redoubtable tamper who led us. We arrived at our destination; still we had no time to admire the beauties of Nature (if any). We congregated in one seething mass in a foul kennel dignified by the appellation of hut. There, amid the overpowering fumes and stench of human bodies, we were invited to partake of something that can only be described as a culinary abdominal.

The primary requirements of man are supposed to be food, shelter, clothing and love. The tramper's ideal of the first two has already been referred to. The third we will not refer to—we are always modest. Now, for the last. Yes, sir, ther were ladies present. Here words fail us.

Our altruistic scribe says "there never was room on a mountain top for petty meanness or a doubtful yarn." However that may be, when we sampled tramping the topic of conversation seemed to be confined to the peculiarities and exploits of various tradesmen's daughters.

We therefore warn the readers of "Smad" not to be beguiled into taking up tramping in search of purity, goodness and truth. But if they have a taste for the bizarre and brutish, lei them wallow in the physical and moral mud of the stamping grounds of the tramping species.