From their gay, Gothic home beyond the Hackensack meadows they come the young visitors. The square is filled with them. Orange and Black mingles with sober crimson in the store windows. Spectators speculate; trefoil frailties and the Yard gendarmes reminisce quite audibly. One might call it Indian summer--but the House of Hanover could not brook that.
From his old, gray slab before University John Harvard, almost blithely, steps forth and limbers his jade green legs preparatory to moving over to the stadium for the formal welcome of these play boys of the Jersey world. Nor is he completely bored by his duties as host. Cambridge, is such an ancient, gloomy place! John is really quite gay about the young visitors--and, frankly, it is rumored that he is going to continue gay, even late into the afternoon, wild animals to the contrary not with standing.
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