THE UNDERGRADUATE CHAIR

Beset with the customary post-Carnival languor, we plump down a little wearily into our Undergraduate Chair to begin this month's offering. As we look sleepily back over the events of the week-end, we agree with a satisfying yawn that it was the best Carnival ever.

The party definitely proved three things: First, that Carnival is attaining a continually increasing importance as a social event; second, that there is still quite a bit of the filthy lucre knocking about the economic backwater that is Hanover; third, that (as The Dartmouth very happily put it) there is a very strong basis for the statement that God is an active member of the Outing Club.

In support of the first statement, we have only to call to witness the phenomenal number of Yales, Harvards, Amhersts, atal. who flock to Hanover at the slightest mention of the word Carnival. As a matter of fact, the Yale basketball team had supporting it quite a competent cheering section made up of adventurers from New Haven.

In regard to the second assertion, we have only to say that the crowd of guests was the largest entertained since the inception of Carnival as an annual affair.

Concerning the third, we quote TheDartmouth which went to press on as beautiful a spring day as we have seen in Hanover: "Forty-eight truck loads of snow will be hauled and the entire man power of the Outing Club will be mobilized to 'snow' the golf course hill."

This was written by men in the depths of despair. Of course, while the paper was going to press, the snow sifted down and took possession with its customary aplomb, making the editors of The Dartmouth look just the least bit foolish. However, nobody even cared about the paper by this time.

We almost forgot to add that like the first fake Armistice in November 1918, there was a first fake snowfall on the Tuesday preceding the big week-end which was greeted by the boys of the Outing Club with as much fervent rejoicing and cannon shooting, in proportion, as was the first announcement of world peace. As if scared by the cannon shooting and the deep-throated masculine growls of delight of the Carnival Committee, the snow had almost completely disappeared by morning and the plentiful Carnival crop was secured only after exactly four quarts of healthy red blood had been contributed by the straining pores of the Cabin and Trail group.

The Dartmouth under its new directorate caught the spirit of Carnival and appeared on Friday with a gala edition containing felicitations from (as it seemed) most of the prominent people in America. There were words of cheer (perfectly bonafide) from Billy Sunday, Ella Boole, Huey Long, Mayor O'Brien of New York, Mayor Curley of Boston, Ben Bernie, Walter Winchell, Dorothy Dix and Warden Lawes, just to mention a few. The paper also produced on Saturday its annual Carnival pictorial supplement, which seemed unfortunately to contain less timely pictures than usual. We regretted the running of a comparatively irrelevant comic section in the space usually utilized for picturing the prominent athletic teams and figures of the Carnival period.

The cup for the prize snow sculpture, which is undoubtedly one of the most distinctive features of the whole program, was won this year by the Chi Phi fraternity with their graceful nude silhouetted against a background of blue colored ice. Probably the most grotesque of the offer- ing was the Alpha Delt attempt at a pink elephant. The inexpert spraying on of the red pigment gave the surface the appearance of suffering from the ravages of some dread skin disease.

Tri-Kap's Bear Again a prize winner—said to be kept in the cellar between Carnivals!

Hit of the Show! Joe D'Esopo '29, Swiss Alpsman, and Thor, Professor McCallum's sled dog, as they appeared in Carnival's Schweizer Schutzenfest."