Something Novel in Fires

The afternoon of the riot, we forgot to tell you, gave us one of the most colorful fires this year. With all due respect to the nursing staff of Dick's House and the Hospital, it must be confessed that the Nurses' Home has for long been a subject of speculation and story. Its impenetrable recesses have long been invested with a privy importance of their own. Considering all these things, it must be confessed that a fire in these quarters would be a glamorous affair—and that it was. It was with far more than the ordinary academic interest which just another fire in Hanover now arouses that the crowd drew around to help Hanover's bravest in their fight. What took us particularly was the extra-professional ardency which the student fire-brigade displayed. They dashed here and there, throwing doors wide, rousing already roused people, and generally treating the matter in hand with all the profound consideration which it deserved. At the peak of their famous efficiency, the trifling conflagration was quickly put out, and the kimonoed ladies breathed once again freely—although it has been hinted that one of our fine laddies has not yet returned to our fold—a dreadful toll fire certainly takes. Nevertheless, they're a proudly aloof crowd, these valorous valiant vire-vighters!

An ordinary grass fire is practically despised around here now; the student body has become a morbid crowd of fire-watchers glutted with such trivial things. We suspect that Dartmouth Hall itself wouldn't draw more than a few handsful.—No we don't either, but you think of some way to end that paragraph!