MARATHON: The Mountains Consent to an Interview!

Or, How Doth the Old College Change With Its Frills, Frescoes & Frolics?

As IT ALWAYS has been, so does it continue to be. The mountains look on Hanover and Hanover looks on you and on me.

Steadfastly the rocky hedge maintains its guard. Calmly it still surveys the hamlet at its base. Complacently it still observes the plodding march of time as transitional modes, manners and methods transform Hanover's appearance but never molest its personality. Hanover never changes.

However, there have been wanton reporters who have dared to argue with the mountains. With voices pitched in doleful tone and choked by mournful sobs of synthetic emotion, they have decried the passing of "the good old days" as indicative of ruthless destruction of all that is Hanover. Gullible listeners have swallowed the likely pronouncements with avidity. The gossipy tidbits have had a singular relish. All might be well enough if the process of distribution ended with the original consumer. But no, the presumably enlightened recipient must forthwith hie himself to the presence of other ignoramuses with whom he may share the ponderous and tragic news. And so, the frenetic and addled harbingers swirl off in concentric capers in their diligent effort to set the world right as to the sorry state of affairs.

they let well enough alone? Let's do something about it." Immediately a querulous chorus sets up the howl, "Is nothing sacred? Why can't

Such verbal tantrums ensue the bewildering revelations that old traditions have failed; that the act of "taking it" is far more difficult than that of "dishing it out"; that invading benefits of modern science are having a decidedly softening effect upon Dartmouth brain and body; that flossy and fancy curricula have supplanted the tried and true mental case-hardening processes of the Classics; and that current sartorial embellishments are but blatant badges of masculine effeteness. Far into the nightand even echoing against the distant yet comprehending mountain sides—the hullabaloo goes on.

With his infinite attention to the fitness of things, it is fervently hoped that the guiding executive of the institution—which is Dartmouth—may find it possible to appoint a research committee. The duty of that august body, which should not only be academic in spirit but inquisitive with mathematical exactness, shall be to determine the exact time which is necessary for the completion of a Hanover cycle.

report for the benefit of their less erudite overlords, the alumni, a suggestion may be pertinent. They should be requested to confine their computations to terms of classes and eschew any conglomerate collection of less familiar integers. The frosty fathers should be instructed to ascertain the exact period of time which is covered by the now indefinite "good old days." To facilitate their lucubrations, and perhaps with an idea of simplifying their

Such a report would be something to have. Especially would that be so, should the committee find it possible to produce a supplementary and straightforward statement of fact to accompany the figures.

Just imagine the happy fireside hours which might be spent perusing such a document. Just imagine the reawakened urge it might instill in the hearts of wayward and truant alumni to become again integral parts of the great Dartmouth cosmos. Just imagine the simultaneous cheer of approbation with which it surely should be greeted. And finally, indulgent Brethren, just imagine this adumbration of such a report which you are herewith privileged to peruse prior to the appointment—or even the convention—of the Star Chamber which is to produce it.

(QUOTE, UNQUOTE AND A COUPLE OF QUESTION MARKS)

To President Hopkins, the Trustees and the Undergraduates and (Heaven help them 'cause we can't) the Alumni, be our findings hereby made known:

After diligent search amid dusty archives hitherto reposing peacefully in the basement of Hallgarten Hall, we have amassed myriad vital statistics from which we cull the following distribution of Dartmouth cycles for your information and edification: Cycle No. I—Classes 1774 to 1815, inclusive. This was known as the birchbark or buskin cycle, and was referred to in later years by all members of those classes as "the good old days."

Cycle No. 2—Classes 1816 to 1857, inclusive. This was known as the Latinto-Greek-to-You or down-with-rum cycle, and was referred to in later years by all members of those classes as "the good old days."

Cycle No. 3—Classes 1858 to 1899, inclusive. This is known as the outside- plumbing or side-burn cycle, and is now referred to by all members of those classes as "the good old days."

Cycle No. 4—Classes 1900 to 1913, inclusive. This is known as the chewterbaccer or sweat-shirt cycle, and is now referred to by all members of those classes as "the good old days."

Cycle No. 5—Classes 1914 to 1933, inclusive. This is known as the creampuff or inside-plumbing cycle, and will always be referred to .by all members of those classes as "the good old days."

Cycle No. 6—Classes 1934 to The Wide, Wide World, inclusive. This will be known as the

non-graduate-coaching or boch-beer cycle and will, with hardly a question of a doubt, always be referred to by all members of those classes as "the good old days."

In conclusion, it is the pleasure of your committee to call your specific attention to our most important yet not altogether obvious deduction that the loosely used term of "the good old days" may only be applied correctly to that period of time which lies between 1770 and infinity.

Respectfully and timidly submitted, (It is impossible to name the committee. It is only possible to read their minds.)

The mountains, reading over your shoulder and mine, are smiling complacently and ruminating upon their own styles of other years. They discover that it was only yesterwinter that a venturesome and unseasonal greenish garment did they wear; that yesterautumn a repulsive wrap of pallid brown was modish; and that yesterspring a sportive frock of filmy folly was flashing summer's promise to the land. Whatever the future may have in store is of small concern to them. They further know that consistency or conformity are no more part of nature's code than they are of man's.

Superficial appearances to the contrary notwithstanding, the mountains are the mountains. As they look on Hanover, is it so strange that they should discover—even as most of us—such striking similarity of comportment as Man's to Nature's? Is it so strange that they should see that the modes, manners and methods of the town—which is Dartmouth—shift irresistibly and irrefutably with the seasons and the times, but that its personality—its very self—never changes. "The good old days" will come and go forever.

The author makes a four-point landing in Hanover

Ira Q. Alumnus Looks into the winter sports situation.

Ira interviews some of the survivors of one of Dartmouth's 19th century cycles.