Vos Morituros Salutamus

This is positively the final appearance of the CRIMSON-Lampoon hockey announcement. The game will be played on the Stadium rink this afternoon at 1.30 o'clock. At 3 o'clock the CRIMSON editorial board, escorted by the Lampoon board, will bear the trophy cup from the home of effete luxury on Mt. Auburn street to the temple of work in the Union basement.

At midnight on his airy perch old ibie trembles on his pin. Prophetic bird, full well he knows the Crimes-own hockey team will win.

Within the slave is dreaming of the time when scores of husky editors, on track and field, upheld the honor of the funny sheet, and to the daily grinders ne'er would yield.

O Slave! O Ibie! these degenerate days have bred a race of no athletic power. No more can Lampy shout his boastful lays: this is the CRIMSON'S destined triumph-hour.