The League of Nations would look like a ten cent carnival if put beside the Junior-Senior Kermis staged last Friday night in the ladies' Gymnasium. Every nation known to man, and some that are as yet unknown were portrayed.

Scotchmen, Frenchmen, Englishmen, Jews, Gentiles, Mormons, Spaniards, Venetians, Egyptians, every nation who has a distinctive dress (excepting the sophomores) were portrayed.

Blackie and Blacker, the two missionary eating cannibals were there in. (you can hardly say full attire, although it is all they wear in the jungles). They searched throughout the evening for some likely missionary who would make good soup. Two tramps, with shot guns, made it their duty to see that the savages did not get away with any unsuspecting frollickers. At intervals throughout the dance these shaggy creatures would stealthily come up behind someone and pull the trigger. The hall would vibrate with shreiks of the weaker sex and the boom of firearms.

The Japanese Garden, with the Turkish flag hanging in it, was a beautiful sight to witness, and was well worth walking across the hall for. It was a likely retreat for timid folks and couple after couple could be seen creeping up the stairs to this garden with its scent of Skunk Oil.

Almond eyed Chinese solemnly walked the floor never cracking a smile, even when one of the cannibals slid across the floor and left a black streak, they were planning revenge on the Jews who were making eyes at their women and Grank their cider.

Abou Ben Swenson (may his wife live in peace) awoke that night from a deep dream of peace really the cider was fine. Abou had a growth of black whiskers that was ambush for a whole herd of desert nomads.

Several characters from Constantinople fell in the drinking fountain and had a Turkish bath. Wild west characters with guns and spurs rode the floor to perfection, not pulling leather either.

The orchestra was about the trampiest bunch of tramps that ever tramped, but thep put out good stuff and above the shreiks of the savages, through the boom of guns, out of the mouth of the orchestra pit came the six hundred best measures of dance music that ever greeted so motley a crowd.

Cider flowed free and the biscuits were hard. The music was wild and the crowd wilder. The chaperones were good and their wives "gooder." The decorations were pretty and the girls prettier. The costumes were rare and the dancing was rarer. It really was a good party, if you don't believe it ask someone who went.

The "Y" News, Brigham Young University. Provo, Utah, Nov. 10. 1926.

Which explains a lot about the Brigham Younger generation. and it proves that: the person who said the worst brawl in America was the Harvard Junior Prom is all wrong. But not everyone gets as far west as Utah. We're not all Roumanians.

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Who was that lady I distinguished in your company at the recent intercollegiate football contest? That was not what you have so aptly stated she bet on Brown.

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Pick your winning color said Carl Van Vechten as he finished his "Nigger Heaven" and went into Childs.

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Back and sides go bare, go bare

Vanitatis Carrollorom

How I like this Cambridge air.

With its libera librorum!

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Oh! There isn't any sale.

Down at Yale, down at Yale.

So expect her exhaltation

To provoke your own deflation.

Football bankrupts half the nation

Down at Yale, down at Yale.