Untitled Page 140

[written] 8 22
[typed] (Rose 1)

Thanksgiving, 1895

My dearest Nannie-

This is a day in gray, gray asphaltem, gray sky, gray trees,
even the houses are gray as I look out of the window where I am
curled up in the sofa cushions with the wrapper on that you made
me, it is such a comfort now that I have my flannels on and want
something to lounge in. All morning I have felt very virtuous and
holy because I could not go to the big game, and I suppose I have
looked as glum as such self esteem calls for, but this afternoon
I am reversing my opnion and am fast concluding that it was the
most sensible and natural thing in the world and that I am the most
egotistical puff of conceit that ever breathed. The whole univer-
sity is in 'Frisco to-day-an elight train all draped in red and toot-
ing the Stanford yell, left here at eight o'clock. One of the
girls is going to telegraph me as soon as the game is over won. Grac-
ious ! I wonder what the score will be ! I don't see how the stat
statues in the museum can refrain from leaping off from sheer ex-
citement. Snatches of football songs keep going through my head
so if this letter resolves itself into a medly of "When all the people
from round about - With Cardinal ribbon come out to shout - When
we put Berkeley up the spout + And Cochran kicked the goal"
or poor old Berkeley - Berkeley wow wow wow Poor deluded Berkeley
tra-la-la-la-lao-la - Our banner is the cardinal - The color true
and bold - That never lost a victory - or bowed to blue and gold.

It is simply pouring, though the weather for all the practice
games has been lovely. Really all month we have had the most per-
fect days, bright and clear, just cold enough to make life snappy.