The Undergraduate Chair

The month has been studded with events of undergraduate interest. To begin with, Spring had just begun to be taken for granted when it snowed—really snowed, after the greens at Hilton Field had come into playable shape again, and the green-picket peril had once more seized the campus. Resigned looks were the order of the day until it was discovered that this snow-in-April conventionality was more than a conventionality this year. Sulky weather followed and followed and followed. The front lawn of Dartmouth has been wet, treacherous, and uninviting; freshmen-trying-to-look-like-sophomores wander hopelessly about the campus trying to find a dry place on which to lie and appear indolent. However, it couldn't last forever, and now, two weeks before examination period, the sun shines once more. The antique crack that Hanover has but two seasons daily becomes confirmed more and more. August today, Winter tomorrow— and so it goes.

However, the persistent inclemencies of the weather have had no other effect on outside activities than to stimulate them. All scheduled trips have come off as planned. A four day canoe jaunt from St. John's to Burlington to Hanover formally opened the season of the Ledyard Canoe Club during the last part of April. Previous to this the swollen Connecticut had made any boating impossible, but since this time, the river has claimed more than the usual number of enthusiasts. The annual five-mile race was held, the customary strenuous conditions prevailing, and numerous feeds have been held on various islands up and down stream for the purpose of acquainting the new members with the river. Hanover's aquatic possibilities have lately been brought to the fore again. This came as a result of the proposal that Dartmouth have a crew, and while no official action has been taken on it, the undergraduate interest is keen. The imputation that Dartmouth hasn't the manpower to warrant any action in that line stings. While the imputation is doubtful— the physical facilities being what they are— we do wonder where we would muster ten or twelve of the six-six youths whom one can see weekly in any Boston paper; and we are forced to the conclusion that eight good little men are as good as eight big men anyway. Be that as it may, we are ambitious—we'll let it go at that until the Athletic Council steps one way or another.

With all this uncongeniality, Hanover has to do something with its time—and what better than to be smug? It is just about this time of year when no one knows exactly what to do-when hour exams have drooped their ugly heads, and finals are too close at hand to permit of any extensive peerading. Add to this day after day of drizzle, and the result is smugness. 'Twere futile to study until the reading period, at least—and so an indescribable apathy falls over the college. With characteristic perception The Dartmouth comments:

Wander into the Wigwam and look at the quiet cubicles of people, smugly munching smug toast-sides. At the gymnasium, there are droves of eager-eyed people stalking about, doing their jobs very, very efficiently and looking smug about the whole situation. On the diamond, perfect timing accounts for perfectly placed hits soaring out into quiet grasswhere efficient fielders gather them in and whip them accurately back to smug second baseman. The pallid masses pouring forth from the Nugget in the afternoon are smug, whether the show was good or bad. People even drive out to fires in Etna smugly. These columns literally reek of smugness. Green Key' and the Nugget and high prices and contented cows, forsooth. "It's downright unhealthy."

To make us feel this deplorable state the more, queries have come in asking scornfully why we have relegated shorts to the discard. We are not here to discuss the pros and cons of the situation, but it wounds our sense of pride to know that we are regarded as faddists. Shorts waved ostentatiously in the most frigid breezes last Spring—how may we account for their failure to appear this year? It is true that some few have been seen about the campus, but the wearers have been eyed almost pityingly. The Dartmouth has maintained a painful silence, one weak query "Shorts?" summarising their whole stand on the situation. We cannot help but feel that senior canes and shorts make too good a combination to be passed by so meekly.

Of course, Spring houseparties were the focal point for the first part of May. That they are hereafter no more to be included in the spring program leaves us with a strange lack of words—we think it best to let the results speak for themselves. It is only clear that the usual wild rumors had more basis in fact than they have had before. Heretofore we have been in the habit of springing righteously to arms when it has been claimed that we knew no bounds in our celebrating. Now we are left without a leg to stand upon. The campus has since stood around hanging its head sheepishly. The Dartmouth echoed the general sentiment in stoically accepting the edict:

"It is not our policy generally to stand by and meekly acquiesce without challenge to the actions of the administration. However, in this particular case we feel that we can do nothing but nod morosely. There was nothing else to be done. There has been a feeling that because there was no special warning sent out to the fraternities, and because the administration did not post its usual minions about the dormitories, that there would be no objection to a wide-open party. Such a feeling indicates a distinct failure somewhere on the part of the Selective Process. "The College stuck out its neck and the axe fell."

Intramuralists splash through puddles on the golf course, chase skidding balls on the campus, and watch little brown pools day after day on the tennis courts—the season is almost at an end. The championship stretch has been reached; more and more suggestions are offered by the crowing crowd perched on the senior fence. A most important part of the College's program are these intramurals.