This evidently set things right again, and the dormitory philoso
pher was at last content to leave somebody else speak.
“There is going to be a big kick over this new rule concerning
cuts,” said Rodger. “If a fellow wants to go home a day or SO'
earlier on Christmas he has either to get sick or run the risk of
going home to stay,”
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” broke in Chad, from
the corner.
, “Just imagine that Christmas is a few days later, and then when
it is time to leave you can experience the sensation of going home
early,” dryly said the dormitory philosopher, as he rolled himself
another cigarette.
“There he goes again,” said Hadley, “might as well try to con
vince the sophomores that the freshman had won their cider
scrap.”
“Or try to enter with advanced standing in Chem.," broke in
Max.
Silence ensued. Actually one minute passed without the dormi
tory philosopher uttering a word.
“Who burned the bleachers?” he suddenly broke out.
“Don't know, but I could guess soon enough,” said Dodger.
“You see the fellows have resolved to cut out all raiding, and they
have evidently found a new way to exhaust the damage fund. I
suppose the old track house will go next year.”
Here the dormitory philosopher looked at his watch, and claim
ing that he had a pressing engagement, left the room. Without
him the conversation could not go on, and soon the room was
emptied of its occupants.
A revision of some of the college yells has taken place. The’
revision has been apparently on grounds of too strenuous phrases
in some of them —consequently that “Old Canteen” yell, which
has lived through probably ten or more years of “reforms” has
EDITORIAL.