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The recent idiosyncrasies of Cambridge journals--mere reactions, of course, to the monotony and morbidity which are March--have not been unique in the world of learning. Approaching spring has tempted minds, moored far from Harvard, into vernal vicissitudes of a varied nature.

In New Haven the life of a chorine has become even more strenuous as college stalwarts have strewn her histrionic path with indecorously decorative chocolate almonds. And though the oddity of the occasion impressed the audience as it depressed the chorus, it cannot sanely be considered a precedent for future generations. Nor can the novel method of resisting religious discipline adopted yesterday in the same college when gum erred from its primrose path to the ever moving bridgework and settled into the locks of the chapel doors.

Yet New Haven has been most discreet in its equinoctial diversions compared with certain residents of New Jersey for the dean of one college in that state has been forced to call the law to his aid in maintaining culture and constraining concupiscent collegians from over indulgence in hot dogs and gin neither of which is a nice complement to the other. Indeed, so violent have been the results of such admixtures that the dean has laid a curse upon road-houses and a complaint in the daily press.

But neither of these institutions has suffered as has Adrian College. There in Michigan the Kappa Kappa Gamma girls have really suffered. For spring and one quart of local indiscretion--evidently not born with them in the consulship of Metellus as was the wiser wine of Horace--have forced from their maiden lips sincere and righteous words of condemnation. Ten live men and a bottle of rum were too much for Kappa Kappa Gamma--and the girls reported to the president--thus--

"We, the members of Kappa Kappa Gamma sorority hereby go on record as being opposed to the use of liquor in any form, and we furthermore state that we believe the ten boys who attended our dancing party were guilty of gigantic disrespect, both to ourselves and to our chaperone."

Surely the spring has seasoned culture with the spice--and wine--of living. Yet it is not quite such an unusual phenomenon as might a casual observer believe. Lord Chesterfield, stern guardian that he was, suggested occasional play as necessary in the life of his son, Philip. And that sane and sage poet of the Sabine hills confessed that--"it is sweet to play the fool in the right place." Of course the right place is not always the spotlight. But Horace did not appreciate publicity. Young barbarians--old barbarians--all are quite willing to play the fool anywhere in the early spring, culture to the contrary notwithstanding, nor Kappa Kappa Gammas nor New Jersey police.

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