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With the end of May the season of the Spring Proms reaches its climax, and in colleges all over the country tuxedoes are being resurrected and weather prophesies anxiously scanned. Tonight comes the Freshman Jubilee, the one great social function of the first year men and the last oasis before plunging into the expansive and arid regions of final exams. The Red Book has appeared and as ever outgoes its predecessors in all important points, the last lecture of History 1 has ended with vociferous applause, and all that remains in to fulfill the social amenities.
Callous critics have tried to detect the underlying principles and sublime morals in the function. It was for just such as these that Mark Twain prescribed shooting for those that sought a moral in Huckleberry Finn. But no one need heed these defilers of the Freshman's pleasure. Whether it represents the climax of the first year, the matriculation into full-fledged Sophomores, or any of many other symbols, no one very much cares. But everyone will at least agree that the Standish back-yard (or smith Common room, as the Fates decide) has never been graced with more delightful visions in organdie or escorts with watch charms in greater abundance.
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