Highway Haunts, Lakeside Luxuries Supply Entertainment for Travellers

If a Harvard man dates a Wellesley girl twice a week for one year, he has to cover 2,592 miles just to see his love and get home again. If he prefers night life in Boston to that offered along the highways nearby, the distance travelled doubles to the equivalent of once across the country and back as far as Chicago.

Despite this handicap, week-end evenings see a sizeable caravan leave, the shores of the Charles for those of the Waban, where the lassies "would rather go out with Harvard men than almost anybody."

Although the town of Wellesley has long been dry and blue, entertainment spots crowd in around the city limits. Most famous, or notorious, is The Meadows, on Route Nine, just a short distance and a long bankroll away. Dancing and drinking are featured between shows. The Maridor, down the road a piece, is gentler on purses and skimpier on entertainment.

For the eating fan, which every girl is after a week of college food, Chin's Chinese Village, also on Route Nine, offers Oriental and Occidental dishes, while the 1812 House, farther along the same road, specializes in fine old American meals.

Lake is Dry

Many find the rambling campus the best, and certainly cheapest, place to spend a day or evening. Lake Waban spreads out along the edge of the grounds, and according to one campus corp, "we don't care what goes on there as long as you're quiet about it." No alcohol is allowed on campus.

Center of activity on that campus is the Well, a small hidden snack shop which serves sandwiches, coffee, and ice cream as regular fare: Wall murals depicting tree nymphs and hoop racers look down at eaters, and the terrace is pleasant in the spring.

Few Restrictions

Sign-out rules are unusually liberal. Freshmen are allowed 15 overnight or 1 a.m. permissions each semester, unlimited 10:30s, and 11:30s on Saturday nights if they ask. Sophomores may have two 1 a.m. permissions every week, and unlimited overnights, while Juniors and Seniors are not limited in any of these.

Living at Wellesley ranges from comfortable in the freshman dorms to plush in the upperclass houses. Many freshmen live in the off-campus village, although some must be put up in houses. After their first year, the girls draw numbers, the low number holders getting their pick of houses.

Meal time is rarely looked forward is, although hiking up and down Wellesley's many hills all day works up an appetits that welcomes almost anything. Distraction is often afforded by girls who sing to sell. This unique arrangement provides that young ladies who wish to sell be longings sing their ads during dinner.

Much purely feminine social life centers in the houses. The floor parties are perhaps the most popular events. Each floor prepares refreshments and a skill for the occasion. The house members start on the top floor and work their way down, being fed and amused at each level. The whole soiree ends in the living room with singing.

Come-as-you-are parties are also rite. They are planned in advance by one small group who, at the appointed time, rest out their companions and drag them, in various states of undress, down to the drawing room, where cat sessions ensue.

The Christmas formal dance and later, dinner, lend a more normal tone to the life of the house. The latter event is marked in some dining rooms by flaming puddings (no brandy).

Despite adminstration efforts to make the houses as cosmopolitan as possible, each has developed certain characteristics. The quad, containing Cazenore. Pomeroy, Beebe, and Shafer, is marked by its informality and the activity of the girls. If an all American girl went to Wellesley, she would probably like here.

Tower Court is larger and less home genous. Girls here tend to form cliques if only to belong to a group. Davis girls are known to intellectually interesting while those in Severance are the school's debutantes.

Although the college is rated highly academic-wise, social activities are there for those who want them. The answer one Waban wench gave to the age old question, "Who Wellesley?" seems to sal the tone. Stretching her arms up to the sun, she looked coyly out of the comes of one eye, and demanded, "Well, why the hell not?"