SEVEN TO NOTHING

In spite of our inability to tame the Yale Bulldog on the gridiron last fall, we need no longer feel blue. Captain Bigelow and his henchmen from the class of 1921 went out after that same animal shod with steel and armed with hickory and filled with an invincible spirit. After a few minutes of contest, the outcome was clearly evident, but play was continued until the Freshmen had driven seven goals where they belonged, past the Yale guard. Strangely enough, the Elis were unable to connect with a fortunate puck-thrust, and they stood at the poor end of a bad score.

Victory is sweet at all times, but it becomes truly delightful when one knows that his side is deserving of the conquest which it has gained. That the Harvard Freshmen were in this position last Saturday night not even the prejudiced can doubt. Twas a happy state of affairs, and many congratulations are due that hockey team for proving its worth.