Strictly Speaking

Lowell Honge Dining Hall continued to serve meals throughout vacation for the benefit of these who found it expedient to remain in Cambridge. Christmas Dinner was an imposing meal, a tribute to the ingenuity of Roy Westcott and his minione. Starting with cream of mushroom goup, the meal ran the traditional gamut of turkey and ended gloriously with mince pic, pumpkin pic, plum pudding with hard sauce, vanilla ice cream with fudge sauce, small cakes, apples, oranges, grapes, mixed noig, cluster raisins, and cheepe and crackers.

The Dining Hall war quite active, serving an average of a hundred and twenty men each meal with a top of two hundred and twenty-nine. For breakfast after New Year's Eve only thirty-seven men made their appearance.

The Square was gay New Year's Eve. The University Theatre showed "In Person" and "Splendor" and standing room only prevailed after 8 o'clock. There was no midnight show, but there was one of those shorts in which, with much ringing of bells and to the tune of Auld Lang Syne the figures 1935 were swept away by Father Time's sickle and the figures 1936 gaily substituted.

The subways ran all night for the first time in history and those who make a business of estimating crowds estimated the crowd in Boston as being larger than the one which gathered when the Armistice was declared.

By special dispensation, the Cambridge bars were allowed to serve until 1 o'clock instead of the usual 11:45 deadline. The hosts in several spots sported evening clothes, one a dinner jacket with a white waistcoat.

As the midnight hour approached excitement crept into the voices of the telephone girls who tell you the correct time. "Happy New Year," we said when one of them finally announced 12 o'clock. "Thanks," she said, "and a Happy New Year to you." Bells began to ring, whistles to toot and three happy drunks came tripping up Mount Auburn Street singing "The Music Goes Round and Round." We went to bed.