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THE GARB SCHOLASTIC.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

Today is Cap and Gown Day! Once again, after two drab, monotonous years of khaki, the Senior class blossoms forth in impressive robes of funeral and scholarly hue. As of yore, the Yard will welcome those venerable togas smacking of mysterious classical antiquity as well as the geometric head gear suggestive of profound and learned erudition in the occult mysteries of oblate spheroids and tangent planes.

That these time-honored garments will be worn by undergraduates as innocent of excessive learning as ourselves matters not. What boots it that their thoughts, far from being concentrated on some ethereal conception of intellectuality, are intent on that position at ten dollars a week and the comparative chances of an aesthetic lunch on fourteen cents at "Holts'." Their raiment sets them apart from the plebeian mass of undergraduates for the remainder of their connection with the University.

To many minds "tradition" means sitting on a fence and spinning tops, or ducking some insubordinate Freshman beneath the cooling influence of a town pump. But such a conception is extreme.

The wearing of these vestments is a custom, resembling in its dubious antiquity, those proud and hallowed traditions of the English universities. It is altogether fitting that the Senior class be properly set apart before those deep and mysterious rites of graduation. It is the best Senior class we have! As such, let them be fittingly attired.

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