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Though in spring our fancy turns to the finer things in life, the Faculty insists that before revelling at Revere and similarly enjoying the beauties of Nature we pick up some selection of prose, peruse it for a moment and quickly decide whether the masterpiece is written in the guttural snarl of the Teuton or the musical rhythm of France. This done, the worst is over. If the work belongs to the French school translate firently, using love as the fundamental; if German, emphasize the wonders of the Fatherland, whistle the Lorelei and depart, thanking the instructor for listening.
The Orals are one of our few traditions; what the fence is to Yale, the Orals are to us, and both are equally hard to get through. Tomorrow the ceremony begins; one by one we file in, take our guess, and leave. The Orals differ from other examinations in they are the only tests for which one cannot prepare. They are merely a matter of imagination, sang-froid and volubility, or what the ball player calls speed, and accuracy of control. Like the same sport, three misses and the candidate is "out" for the rest of the year. We advise a little preparation on the fundamentals and the rest is easy sailing.
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