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Bacheller, Irving, 1859-1950

"Eben Holden, a tale of the north country"

We decided to leave it to the ladies of the
class and they greeted our plan with applause. So, that morning,
we arrayed ourselves in high hats, heavy canes and fine linen,
marching together up College Hill. We had hardly entered the gate
before we saw the Sophs forming in a thick rank outside the door
prepared, as we took it, to resist our entrance. They out-numbered
us and were, in the main, heavier but we had a foot or more of
good stiff material between each head and harm. Of just what
befell us, when we got to the enemy, I have never felt sure. Of the
total inefficiency of the stove-pipe hat as an article of armour, I
have never had the slightest doubt since then. There was a great
flash and rattle of canes. Then the air was full of us. In the heat of
it all prudence went to the winds. We hit out right and left, on both
sides, smashing hats and bruising heads and hands. The canes went
down in a jiffy and then we closed with each other hip and thigh.
Collars were ripped off, coats were torn, shirts were gory from the
blood of noses, and in this condition the most of us were rolling
and tumbling on the ground.


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