While other Harvard men were taking their ease and their feet off the family tables, one son of his aima mater did a deed certainly worth recording by any good orthophonic. Commander Flah, late of the Guard, accompanied by your humble correspondent, scaled Mt. Slowly.

Never before in the history of scales has such a tremendous undertaking taken place in America. Rising sheer above the frozen waters, ice covered, of the lake discovered by Champlain and called after hind, Lake Champlain, rises Mt. Slowly, towering to the full glory of its two thousand feet.

The camp at the base (pictures by Pathe) was soon abandoned by Fish and his men. We had only ten days to make the trip. And nine of those were occupied in mailing Christmas presents to the little Fishes, for do not think that our ascent was not permeated with the feeling of good fellowship and eternal brotherhood.

Our pack animals made a long line of quadrupeds as they trailed along the foot of the mountain. Had they known the rigors which they were to face before their return they would never, never have gone. They went. And soon the first ridge of old egg shells left by summer visitors to western Vermont met our gaze. Commander Fish, who is a scientist as well as a lecturer, a mountain climber and an Elk stopped to inspect these. Old Mumbley-Jumbley, one of the natives in the train, said that these shells were from local Baptists who each year made a pilgrimage to the spring about four feet above the first story.

I was quick to notice that as soon as the pack animals realized that we were moving beyond the timber line, they ceased to function, some even lying down. Remember that time was short and that twelve photographers as well as an advance agent of the Alpine Club were waiting there at the bottom of this mountain for news of our success!

"We must leave them behind", said Fish with his usual brevity.

"The photographers?" asked I in my usual well modulated voice.

"No, the pack animals." I was going to be gay with the remark that I had some camels, but remembered myself in time to forget it. Alone then but for ourselves we continued our slow climb. I had never been so high before except once at Revere Beach and that time old Aunt Kate took me to the top of the Woolworth Building. And yet here I was high above the waters of Champlain, working my way even higher. And then it snowed, snowed with the fury of ten unhappy children and a spanked grand-child.

"We must find shelter", quoth Fish. I could only laugh. Where could one-find shelter on the peak like this We forged on through bank after bank of snow. We had not even received a bid to a "deb" dance, not even a De Pinna advertisement for hours.

Were we abashed? Not a whit. Gritting our teeth we advanced. Two bears, a slightly worn ulster, and a radical attacked us, but we fought them off. Only ten more inches and the deed was filed done. I looked at Fish. He was perspiring freely so that he looked much more like a person at a fancy dress ball than the intrepid explorer he is.

He had insisted on bringing tea. He said he always used it at the poles. So we had tea, high tea, then and there. Of course the snow hindered us, but what is one hindrance more or less. Refreshed we made the last nine inches in ten flat. And what do you suppose we found? Well, some one had evidently climbed the dear old mountain before. For there was a bright, shiny Statler Hovel, newspapers at every door.

"And that", as Commander Fish said, is where climbing gets rou."