Cambridge awakes this morning to turmoil. It is infested with tigers. Tigers on the street, tigers in the Yard, tigers in furtive conference with Max Keezer, tigers in the bathroom, tigers sleeping in one's bed, tigers wanting to sleep in one's bed, "upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's chamber" everywhere tigers. There are tigers anxious, tigers confident, tigers nonchalant, tigers morose, tigers joyous, tigers hilarious tigers in every stage of preparation for the great climax.
A moth-eaten natural history book, lately discovered in the Treasure Room of the Widener Library describes the tiger as "a large feline of the zebra complexion which inhabits the swamps of New Jersey. For a short period every we years it migrates northward in great numbers to the flats at Cambridge, Massachusetts, to 'pawn'. After his operation the animal returns to is habitat, greatly reduced, and in a condition relatively "ractable."
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Assignment of Seats at Memorial.
