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The game was played yesterday down in the Business School Yard; the Crimson took it in its stride, The Dartmouth took it hard. The score was indeterminate, the game inconsequential the net results of inestimable value. It has been rumored abroad, and even in this country, that the titanic struggle would not be staged in the Stadium, and Lo, the poor Indian, it wasn't. It was staged, nevertheless, in the midst of an inordinate gloom. Clouds hung low, spirits lower; the results were utter depth. There was no farthest south.
Those who witnessed the epoch said that nothing like it had been seen before or since. When a Dartmouth man passed, he passed completely and irrevocably into the great beyond. There were no half way measures. There are only the details to record. Those details, as every Crimson reader knows, were not worth reading. The episode was a masterpiece in every sense.
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