The Undergraduate Chair

Just now as we started out to comment on the weather here in Hanover for the past month, we suddenly began to wonder why it always seems natural in this column to speak of the weather. The weather is supposedly a taboo subject for sophisticated conversation and very likely were we writing from any other college we would seldom mention it.

But up here in Hanover we tie up our work to quite an extent with the weather man. The fall brings that crispness in the air and those brilliantly colored leaves which lead students to ambitious programs in their organizations and to the discussion of football.

Then as old man weather becomes uncertain between November and Christmas, there is a corresponding dying away of extracurricular activity and a devotion to study. King Winter comes down from the North right after the Christmas recess and the College revives. Unorganized outdoor sports and organized indoor teams dominate.

This past month has seen the climax of the last named section of weather program. The winter athletic teams have all completed their schedules, the mania for skiing has died away and Dartmouth enters a period of restlessness, awaiting spring. True there are eight inches of snow on the campus and the skiing is still fine, but every once in a while the old sun blazes down, and a warm gust of wind comes from somewhere, making us think of sun baths on fraternity porches, dips in Lake Fairlee and evening drives and walks.

Speaking of such pleasant visions recalls to us a story we heard the other day. It concerns a Dartmouth student who, becoming over infected with the spirit of spring, decided to bum his way to Bermuda and back. Although his father had already supplied him with the necessary funds he wished to save the money, for other things (and probably was seeking for such an escapade). He got on the boat safely and had a pleasant voyage south, sleeping occasionally in deck chairs. In Bermuda he doubled up with two other fellows in their hotel room, as we have all done in Boston hotels on peerades. Everything went smoothly until the day of departure when he discovered that the sailing papers of each passenger were being examined. He finally overcame this difficulty by having the Dartmouth crowd get on and off the boat repeatly with the presumable intent of taking one last farewell drink. The ship's officers grew tired of checking this same group each time and accordingly our friend nonchalantly walked aboard with the rest. In New York, however, he was obliged to remain below deck until the passengers had left. Hidden in the engine room he drowsed off and fell asleep for several hours, by which time the ship was deserted. He grabbed his few belongings and hurried up on deck and down the gang plank, first nonchalantly lighting a cigarette to further his appearance as one of the ship's crew. Suddenly a shout rang out and a healthy looking watchman cut off his escape. The poor student, who the day before had suddenly begun to realize what might happen were he discovered as a stowaway, was terrified until the representative of the law asked him in a rough tone if he didn't know there wasn't any smoking permitted on the dock.

This past season has been an orgy of weekends. The new College class cut ruling by which overcuts mean less points instead of less hours toward graduation has given us more leeway and has been partially the cause for a trend toward weekend departures from Hanover.

MARCH