Say what they will, Princeton can never supplant Harvard in the affections of old Eli. Occupying as we do a sort of midway station between the two, our inclinations are not equally divided between the Tiger and the Crimson as would seem natural, but bear a slight twinge to the northward. Whether or not he will admit it, the average Yale undergraduate would rather be locked in an igloo for the winter with a Cantab than a Princetonian for all his smoothness (a term which, by the way, has lost some of its former snap). He might not understand the "indifference" of the Harvard man, but he would get goddam sick and tired of hearing about the nifty third sax in Cab Casa Loma's orchestra as set forth by the Tiger.

So saying we can only point to a recent example of the Cambridge esprit de corps which is quite typical of what Yale admires in the Harvard man. The head of Eliot House was of a mind to give a festive luncheon before the Yale game and announced to the members of his house that any who so chose were more than welcome to come. Although he should have known better, he was disappointed to find at the appointed hour a total of zero guests assembled to partake of his hospitality. Only by urgent messages to his intimate friends with Yale guests was he able to gather enough people willing to nibble at his offerings. --Yale Daily News.