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Show UTO N I ANNineteen TwelveA Chortle of GleeA PENSIVE Freshman is no Freshman at all. Let us, as we review our "U" career, settle back and give our sides and lungs fair play, unloose the belt that impedes a wholesome palpitation of the diaphragm, and the collar that constricts the swelling throat of mirth. Let us shake with laughter, let us chortle with glee, let us cachinnate with great immoderation, for ours is a happy, a joyous retrospect.First there was the Flag Rush-huge joke. The craven "Soph,"conceding us victory under fair rules, resorted to subterfuge and won a hollow triumph, for the picture of pea-green Freshmen perched upon perspiring piles of "petered" Sophs will live when the technical victors are steeped in oblivion.The Flag Rush was but an appetizer. We then fell to at the great feast of athletics, ran through the four courses of football, basketball, baseball, and track ; supreme in each division. Though inaugurating in this school the "Freshman" team, we have set a precedence of excellence which will be the ambiton of future classes.Socially, we have mixed. Our Freshman banquet was a roar; our matinee dance, a jog of joy. We have supported the other classes in their undertakings. We have had a good time.Intellectually-well, we will be "Sophs" next year. Enough said. Let us dwell on this no longer. The giddy height may turn our heads.76 |