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and the professors wondered why their classes were so little attended. The bicyclists at Mayfield formed into a batallion, five abreast, in front of the wagon, and behind it the buses and buggies followed. The procession, a quarter of a mile long, marched through Palo Alto and up through the University. All Palo Alto turned out to watch the parade. It was a holiday for Stanford. Enthusiasm was at its highest pitch. Old Palo Alto men yelled like young students. Women waved handkerchiefs, flags, and whatever they could lay their hands upon. Mr. Morris, in his buggy, waved his hat ferociously and yelled like a Comachee. We all yelled back, and with a broad grin