The social season of the University is fast becoming a matter of history--and what a gay season it has been--larger, more elaborate parties, and more beautiful gowns than ever before. "Man, man, 'them there gowns'! They, sure were grand." You should have cast your peepers upon those two divine visions of beauty and loveliness, Kay D. and Agnes B., at the Junior Prom. Kay was a wonder to behold, she was gowned (not dressed) in a creation of red-pink-orange-green-heliotrope. Then there was a fluffy "do-dingas" on the outside of the dress proper, which hung from her arm by a rope. I believe they call it a train,--anyway, I saw several of the boys riding on it. "Tickets, please." And, oh, that fair, fussy Bartlett damsel--another gown and a bunch of spinach in her hair. Oh, believe Papa, girls, it was superb, magnificent, chic and scrumptious. And those men--I wonder how many "books" those dress-suits cost.
   Suspicious glances have been cast in the direction of Automatic 3580 this year, and we must say that there is or seems to be some reason for those glances. The girls sure have that knack of talking the pins off of we poor devils. SEVEN, so far this year--Leap-year and only six months gone--alas, slack, and they call this a matrimonial agency. We hear that Louise and Effie are about to turn the chapter into a matrimonial bridge club, and while we have the welfare of the girls at heart, and grieve muchly to have to say it, we fear for the worst.
   Kappa Alpha Theta announces the engagement of their little daughter, Ruth, to our dear friend Dick. We understand that, even as a baby, Ruth liked those bright, shiny "Nickles."
   It is a curious thing to note how these St. Joe products always seem to start things, especially along the lines of heartaches, etc. We have received information that Tony is now reading the how-to-furnish-your-home-for-$750-one-dollar-down-one-dollar-a-week-until-death signs.
   The Mendelssohn Club held a meeting at the chapter house, 423 North 13th street, last "Choose-day." The members report a very delightful time--yea, even a sweet time. This is a branch of the "Spoonholders" club, which made its appearance in the 1911 Annual. Short talks--ninety minutes--were made by several of the older members and by three of the newly initiated members. The decorations were very clever indeed. The members and guests were ushered into the chapter hall, which was fixed up as an old stage-coach. The President of the club, Miss Alice Kate, held the lines, at the end of which were the pictures of the chosen-ones--Tony, Pax, Mick, Mert, Dick, Effie, Coe, and the rest. After the refreshments were served, speeches were made as follows:

   Bill Letton will take several trips to Dennison in the near future, so we hear.
   Dana VanDusen has made several trips to Omaha lately in the interests of Dan Cupid.
   Mick Romans contemplates spending the summer in Albion. He expects to engage in the newspaper business.
BIDDY MEADE,
Society Editor of The Bingrille Bugle.

   Junior week is the one bright spot to the student recovering from final exams and awaiting the opening of the spring "fussing" season. The Juniors first hold convocation as a sort of "feeler"; if they get by without any casualties, they buy a few railroad tickets and give their artists a running start. At their convocation some imaginative person with a wholesome disregard for facts gets up and reads a glowing account of the class history, after which four self-appointed "bronchos" get up on the platform and sing, making a noise similar to a Brush automobile in a hill-climbing contest. In the midst of this melody the audience makes a break for the door, only to be met by a bunch of oratorical athletes selling tickets for the Junior play.
   The play is given by a large number of the class. Those not taking part sit in the gallery. The members of the cast can be distinguished for months afterwards by the dramatic finish they give their recitations. Many a girl, after having taken part in a Junior play, thinks she can get "clear around the bases" before Maude Adams or Mrs. Fiske could "get to first."
   The Junior "Prom" is the last glorious jewel in the crown. For months before the members of the class economize, by wearing sweaters or rubber collars. When the great day approaches the menu decreases, and the last few days consists of "sinkers" and coffee. The glorious day arrives. The suit comes up from Magee & Deemer's newly pressed and fragrant with gasoline. It is tried on, and finally the "finished bird" goes to the "Prom," to forget the four "bones." But the proudest moment is yet to come; for when he steps to the curb at the call of "44," and a "fussy" cab rushes up, he realizes the magnitude of his deed. In after years, when he boards the suburban car, with "two bits" worth of steak in one hand and a clothes-wringer in the other, he will look with fondness on his "Junior Week."

The Captain of Company F

   We have a curly haired captain whereof we lament mightily. He thinketh he sitteth on the right hand of the Com. but thou art wrong, thou little rascal, thou doth not. Thou protrudeth thy chest mightily, when thou marcheth us forth into the promised land and the band playeth, for art thou not leading the youngest company in a proud and valiant regiment, and lo the recall soundeth and the other companies gather thither, but we remain to gather in the jewels of wisdom that falleth from the prophets' lips, in order that we commit no boneheads in compet, and to marvel at his skill and dexterity in handling a sword like unto a lumberjack with a soupspoon. For verily we drill until the sun setteth and gather in great amounts of twelfth street filth. We are the last tribe to assemble before the adjutant reads his prophesy. We standeth in straight line and admire the symmetrical curves of our shepherd. We tremble at his commands, for doth not the shorn lamb become tempered to the tempest? He leadeth us into the dizzy heights of the cadet manual, and quickens our cadence. He hath a voice that doth rumble mightily, so that we his lambs may not become lost in the wilderness. Yes, yea, and verily we have SOME captainAMEN.

The Typhoid Epidemic

   Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink. Oh, what a sad refrain is this, good student, don't you think? Clear water pleasing to the taste is full of bugs and things, so we must drink this chlorine stuff, or what the kettle brings. Oh, me!
   Oh, my! I heave and sigh a lot more than I oughter, but all my check from Dad won't buy a drink of real water. Quite heedless are the faucets cold of all my cries and yells: they yield a fluid tasting worse than all the Chem. Lab. smells.