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A SAD WORLD, MY MASTERS

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

After a few weeks of college, Freshmen usually wonder if they will ever again at one period receive so much gratuitous advice. When they are about to graduate they realize that once again and for the last time, the world has stopped on its way to tell them what is expected of them. The Class of 1921 has not failed to receive its due quota of advice. Collectively and individually the seniors have been warned, exhorted and directed -- as is the custom.

Custom has it, too, that we should give our parting word. Nearly everything seems to have been said; yet we will venture this: A few years ago commencement speakers were telling their audiences of the bright future that awaited them. This year they are either openly admitting that the prospect is dark or are trying to explain why the world has gone wrong. This year few speakers have wished that they were young men just beginning -- they seem on the other hand to be glad that they can so soon step aside.

All of which would seem to indicate that the men of 1921 have greater opportunities awaiting them than ever before.

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