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[left side]

and your humble servant went to a social in the neighboring village. It was held at the Methodist Church, and was a typical rustic gathering.

A few of the Varsity people went down to enliven things, and lend a little intellectuality to the entertainment, but those obtuse, rustic, townspeople neutralized the entire effect of our collegiate jollity, and we all came to the one conclusion that we'd had a fine time (if we stayed at home).

We gathered around the little wheezing, plaintive organ and sang a number of college songs while the rustics looked on, and grinned; chewed gum and kept their hands in their pockets.

[right side]

The ice cream they served us was more like flavored frozen water than decent cream.

They made it themselves, so that accounts for its excellence.

This morning I went to Chapel and heard Brahmacharin speak. He is the same white-robed Indian that created such an uproar in the Woman's Congress Saturday afternoon. He was not near the incarnation of vengeance, as the Examiner showed him, but a week, docile eloquent expounder of the doctrines of Hindoo morality as Buddha gave them to the world 2500 years ago. His address showed him to be a dep thinker and an original investigator.