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THE CORRIDORS.
THE CORRIDORS.
—Oct. 31!
—Halloween!
—Poor sign!
—Poorer fences!
- Poorest sidewalks!
— Hurrah for the guards!
—But where were the "cops?"
—Wounded fingers and sleepy eyes Thursday morning.
-Who was the Soph who went to sleep in class next day.
—The Orophilians are going to have a new bulletin board.
During the recent experience in "dodging cops," a Fresh succeeded in disguising himself by shaving his mustache. Fact.
Several of our professors are partially discontinuing the examination system, and judging a student's ability from his term work.
The old brass gong which has broken up so many tete a tetes' in the corridors has been replaced by a new silver toned, twenty dollar one.
The Junior Preps are going to get up a class party, which for expense and style will eclipse anything of the kind known in college history.
—H. B. Martin has succeeded to the doubtful honor of being called Little Willie. The first Little Willie is attending a Kindergarten in St. Louis.
--This conundrum is offered for the benefit of the participants in the "late war:" Why is the calaboose like a church fair? Because it costs nothing to go in but a great deal to get out.
The Kappa Alpha Theta girls will spend Thanksgiving at Junction City with their sisters, Miss Bartell and Miss Wright. It is needless to remark that a Wright good time is expected.
Halloween, Perry and Stout were seated at the table in their room hard at work over a game of authors, when a couple of brick bats through the window and on their heads notified them that the "gang" was out.
-Caldwell was called out Halloween with the painful news that a friend had been "run in." He hurried down town but found nothing to confirm the intelligence. Returning to his room he found his worldly goods stacked in the center and in a state of sad confusion.
--A reward of twenty-five dollars was offered by Steinberg for the conviction of those who destroyed his sign on Mount Oread. The University boys were justly indignant over a charge that it was the work of some of their number. It was probably cut down by some of his rivals.
A Freshman has a mustache. That is he thinks he has. Its remarkable improvement lately has excited much remark among his friends, and they asked to be told the secret charm which was rapidly bringing it out of light into darkness. The recipe he gave is old in substance, but one change which has been made will undoubtedly give efficiency. "Put cream upon the upper lip and let a KAT lick it off!" This will undoubtedly be a very popular remedy, and if the supply of cream holds out, mustaches will blossom out on many lips heretofore innocent of down.
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